


violet

by enchantobio



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: AU, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Angst, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Homophobia, M/M, Pining, Slow Build, dorky kurokens, fluffy bokuakas, idk what this is it's like five different soulmate aus in one universe, mainly bokuaka, mentioned daisuga, mentioned tsukiyama, sad iwaois, the soulmate one where you cant see color until you meet your s/m, with the third gym squad
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-01-10
Updated: 2016-04-02
Packaged: 2018-05-12 23:49:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 63,293
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5686372
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/enchantobio/pseuds/enchantobio
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He decides if he were to see in black and white forever, just his voice would be more vivid than all of the colors he could imagine.</p><p>Colorblind Soulmate AU.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. winter

**Author's Note:**

> I'm Annie and I'm bokuaka trash, so enjoy my take on soulmate aus bc frankly I'm also soulmate au trash.

W I N T E R

He twirled the ball in his hands, the diagonal pattern distracting him from the nerves he felt building up. Anxiety was something he grew familiar with, but of course, he wouldn’t say it was too extreme. A little bit of tension never hurt anyone; it was a way he pushed himself when he saw there was no one to do it for him.

A puff of hair blew out through his lips, and his dark eyes looked between his lashes to the net that hung from nearly one side of the gym to the other. He took a final breath before tossing it up with one hand, and ran forward, swinging both arms back before feeling the initial sting of the ball slamming against his palm. Within two seconds, a loud smacking noise echoed through the empty room, followed by repetitive ones before it slowed to a roll.

A hint of a frown fell upon his face, eyes darting at the empty water bottle on the other side of the court. Where the ball had landed was a good foot away from his target. He sighed again, and glanced up at the clock on one of the walls. Deciding he’d been practicing long enough, he made no rush in picking the volleyball back up and dusting off whatever pieces of dust and dirt were on it.

When he left his apartment, he had been met with goosebumps along his arms and legs, but figured the rush of blood throughout his body would numb out the frostbite by time he was done practicing. Although the cold wasn’t completely gone, it didn’t actually make him feel the nipping of the air along his skin.

He started jogging the rest of the way back once he reached about halfway, the shivering creeping up on him. He passed the small park down the street of his house and gave a small wave to someone he recognized from one of his classes. He noticed the emptiness of it, and the darkness behind the windows.

The floorboards seemed to get even colder this winter.

It was just him in the apartment, and he grew accustomed with the buzzing silence and the only other presences being outside his boundaries. He took his tennis shoes off in disgust at the door, noticing the thin layer of mud and grass and dew from running through the park. It was just past noon.

After taking a shower and making a cup of coffee, which he ended up drinking in one sitting, he took a seat onto the couch, his eyebrows locked into the usual shape of discomfort despite there being nothing to cause it. He had left the lights off, there was no reason to keep them on anyways. There was still a faint light coming in from outside, but even that was filtered by the clouds. On days like these, which was most, he never knew what to do. He played volleyball, he studied.

He glanced at the clock above the television, although having just checked it a few minutes ago. His eyes drifted to the ceiling above him, and he figured the reason he was so tired was because he woke up early despite not getting much sleep. His schedule was completely off, and it made him feel as though he was nocturnal.

 

November 30th

There was a sinking feeling in his chest when the ringtone he’d grown to memorize rang through his dreams before he was able to differentiate it as reality. He huffed, and his eyes barely opened enough to shut the thing off. He counted the seconds in his head, only allowing himself to lie down for another minute before swinging his legs over the side of his bed to ensure he wouldn’t try to fall back again.

As he leaned back, his hips meeting the cold stone of the counter, his eyes glanced at a photo on his fridge of himself and his parents. There were only traces of smiles on any of their faces.

His father wasn’t too big of a role in his life. He wasn’t a man of many words, and although he showed more care and consideration than his mother, he wasn’t around often enough for him to notice.

His mother was a very precise woman, and had an eye on anything being out of order if she knew it would lead to something bigger, which, in her eyes, applied to almost everything. She wasn’t cold, she wasn’t uncaring. She loved him, but he knew better than to fool himself when he says she’ll someday learn to show it.

She was nurturing, like a mother should be, and gave him what he needed. Materialistic things or support at school, but it was always spoke in a tone he recognized from phone calls she would often make when he was little. He felt as though she treated him like an employer rather than a son, sitting him down and talking to him formally instead of opening his bedroom door without knocking.

He couldn’t blame her for her ways, though. His grandmother was a ruthless woman, unlike her, and you could feel a chill from a mile away. He was lucky to say his mother was vastly different from her own, but if there was one thing she inherited, it was distance.

As he pushed himself off the counter, his socks creating a slight slip to his step, he considered skipping the day. Although it wasn’t snowing, it was cold enough to, and it made the hairs on the back of his neck stand without a feeling of discomfort. He wasn’t one to skip, but he knew for a fact that there was nothing he couldn’t miss going on in his classes; he had checked the schedule last night.

His eyes grazed across a distorted reflection of himself on steel appliances in the kitchen, and decided to just go since he wouldn’t be able to shut his eyes again until he was fully exhausted. He was out of the house in the next forty minutes, and began the short, comfortable walk to his university.

He went through the day in a mood that was comparable to a phone’s powersaving mode, or a dimmed light. His attention was barely hanging on as he passed through the day. He was a good student without a doubt, but nothing the teachers said in class would be different from the paragraphs in textbooks. Everything about his habits seemed to be switched, with what times in the day should he be awake, and what times of the day he should and shouldn’t be studying.

As mentioned before, he didn’t lead a particularly busy life. In the eyes of the eventful, it seemed relaxing, but all it did to him was null the value of anything that was actually considered relaxing.

He ran his thumb across his wrist, frowning at the small, purple mark that bled into his otherwise paler skin. He was walking home, and noticed the pain as he brushed that spot against his thigh. It was a deep violet color, and he ravished in seeing it.

He applied pressure to the bruise, slightly wincing but continued to press it so often anyways. He wondered if they were fascinated by hues of violet painted across their skin like his own, even if they did hurt a bit. He wondered if they went through a phase like himself, where he would only own things of the color purple just to be surrounded by anything that wasn’t black, white, or grey.

A soulmate was a role that was as apparent as any sort of job or label in society. Certain people were ecstatic and completely taken by the idea of their soul paralleling another’s perfectly. They were dreamers, and were set on believing their soulmates were their true loves.

An old friend explained to him a few years ago, however, that although souls could be chained together, or could live in utopic peace, it didn’t necessarily mean the feeling was romantic. Although some people found the loves of their lives in their soulmates, they were first considered a best friend than a partner.

His mother and father were soulmates. They were married for fifteen years, before deciding that even though they were, indeed, connected mind and soul, they weren’t connected at the heart. So he wasn’t as excited as finding his own as many other people were. Most people’s parents were soulmates, and those were the ones that were the believers about finding their one true love. The ones who didn’t knew the actually meaning, the root of what soulmates actually were - best friends.

There were more and more ways of finding a soulmate being discovered. Some people had a clear path, with a watch inked into their wrist of a timer that counted down to the moment of when they would meet. Although there was nothing more straight forward, he’d imagine the waiting could be frustrating. He’s heard that certain events or things you did could trigger the timer to rewind or fast forward.

Another one he knew about was one the friend he mentioned before had. Marks on a body would appear on the soulmate’s as well. It was easy for his friend to find his; after nineteen years he finally realized if he were to write on his arm he would be able to carry a conversation with whoever received it. They found each other through it, and he was happy with him. He had one of the instances where he felt romantically attracted to his mate.

His mother had one of a birthmark. She and his dad shared the same one, a detailed picture of a feathered pen on their ankles. They found each other a beach.

One of his cousins had one that was somewhat unfortunate. Your body wouldn’t physically age past the age of eighteen until you meet your mate; which meant there were people who were in their hundreds, but looked and felt as though they were still that young. Although it seemed like a power, the chance to be ageless, it made them much more aware of death. She had met her mate when she was twenty-four, but of course, was still technically eighteen. She didn’t want to find him; she wanted to live as long as possible. She was still pretty depressed, and although having found her soulmate, she despised him.

The most tragic one was one that was considered a curse. It only applied to soulmates who were destined to fall in love. It was only possible for one of them to die; the other one would remain ageless at whatever age they were at the other’s death. Although it seemed interesting to live forever, many people who suffered this path had the strongest of love. Double suicides were common once soulmates found each other – they didn’t want to live a life without each other.

He had one that had to do with color; at the moment, he was colorblind. He had been since he was born. For himself, and his soulmate, they could only see one color. Theirs was purple, everything else being black and white. They would be able to see all the other colors once they saw each other, and although he didn’t know how that would look, it was one of the things that excited him about having a partner.

When he got home at around four in the afternoon, he began picking up books and rewriting the amount of notes he had messily scribbled into one that suited him more; a neat, clean, almost too perfect sheet of word after word. He tensed his throat as if to give an inward groan, even though the only forms of heat in the apartment came from a machine, and himself. He loathed physiology, he came to realize only two weeks into the semester. He grew fond of anatomy though; it was much more straightforward, and also helped him with his art.

He dragged the tips of his fingers past his ears, a habit he developed to push curls of his dark hair away to avoid them tickling his skin. Although he wasn’t sleepy, he felt tired, almost drained. He had no motivation to finish the work he had in front of him (the physiology one, at least) but despite repeating the mantra of curses and self-loathing in his head, he ended up finishing everything in a little past two hours.

He blinked, his eyes straining, and closed all his books with more force than needed. He jumped a bit at the sound of a soft jingling sound, and strode on the wooden flooring to one that eventually became carpet. He retrieved his phone, and held it up to his ear, the chill of the glass not fazing him compared to the frost developing outside his window.

“Kuroo-san?” his voice was kept low even though there was no one around to hear it.

“Hey, Akaashi!” his name was drawn out on his friend’s tongue, “You wanna come practice with me?”

“I’m sorry, I’m not feeling up to it right now, Kuroo-san,” he replied, and it wasn’t a lie. Having only gotten five hours of sleep with the clock just brushing past six thirty, he planned on eating an early dinner and attempting to fall asleep just as early.

“Aw, really?” Although his voice sounded concerned for whatever reason that made Akaashi object, he knew his friend well enough to imagine his pouting face on the other side, more upset that he wouldn’t have someone to toss to him.

“You’re a middle blocker, anyways. Shouldn’t you be more focused on honing your blocking?”

“Please, Akaashi, don’t understate my skills. There’s no room for improvement. My blocking is _completely_ in sync with the highest standard possible. Which is why I might as well learn a little offense, too.”

Akaashi began walking back to the table, but once his feet stepped onto the area of frigid wood, he back tracked onto the soft, cream carpet in his small living room. “You could call Tobio-kun.” He suggests, “He’d be more beneficial to you.”

“Oh, shut up, dude,” He imagined his untidy friend rolling his eyes as there was a lull in his sentence, “What’s the point of practicing with Kageyama once, when I’m only ever going to have to spike your tosses?”

“I suppose you’re right.” He admitted, and mustered the courage to step on the chilling floorboards and towards his kitchen. “I…” his voice tapered off as he immediately regretted it, “I can help you for a quarter till. An hour maximum.”

“Alright,” he hummed, grinning through the phone, “Okay. Meet you there in half an hour.”

“Alright, Kuroo-san,” he sighed a bit dramatically, hoping to at least make him feel guilty.

“I’m not guilty,” he said quickly before hanging up.

He knew he was guilty.

 

December 4th

His birthday was tomorrow.

He pretended to be oblivious when Kuroo texted him to come over tomorrow, as if he didn’t throw a party for him every year at his place. He didn’t have class that day, and was lazing about in his bedroom, as it seemed to be warmer in there. He was sketching, practicing bodies and poses, half of them shoved into a drawer filled with papers he would probably never look at again, but would never be thrown away, either.

He rolled the pencil between his fingers, and glanced out the window.

It had finally begun to snow.

 

December 5th

He received no text messages that morning regarding his birthday, but the situation wasn’t pitiful. He almost smiled when he scrolled through his friends’ statuses, casually mentioning they were doing the most awkward, vague things that day. He imagined them giggling at Kuroo’s place, most likely forcing Hinata to post the most unbelievable and obvious one as his status.

He wasn’t wrong; at around five in the afternoon, a few minutes before he was going to leave, he saw Hinata post,

‘Going to a museum! I think it’s about astronomy – Oikawa put me up to it. What a nice…prESent… aha..’

A) Hinata hated museums.  
B) Oikawa wouldn’t give Hinata of all people an invitation to a space museum.  
C) He wasn’t sure what the emphasis in ‘prESent’ was, but if he had to guess, he could see himself going to an astronomical museum in the near future with Oikawa, and possibly Iwaizumi.

He walked the way to Kuroo’s house, as he did for most places, and enjoyed the cold weather for once seeing as he was finally prepared for it. He rapped on the door after going up the elevator and down the hall, and was greeted with none other than Kuroo himself, one hand over his chest and one held out in his typical, ‘I’m always this kind,’ pose.

  
“Ah yes, you have arrived.” He greeted, far more formal than anything Akaashi can recall coming out of his mouth.

Akaashi opened his mouth to speak, a small smile began to form, but was interrupted by him continuing, “Now then, get out.”

Akaashi only closed his mouth, the expression on his face not mirroring the confused thoughts in his mind. He was a considerate person. He didn’t think he was as social as most people, but did visit his friends at least once a week. He knew how to be polite, how to treat others respectfully, and never overdid his stay. What he meant was – never, in the history of Akaashi’s forced attempts to tolerate noise for the sake of his friends, was he told to get out.

He held his friend’s stare, before replying with a simple, “…Alright. Sorry to bother you, then, Kuroo-san.” And turned to head down the hall.

He heard a chuckle, and already shifted his weight back a second before Kuroo tugged him through the doorway by grasping the back of his sweater.

“Akaashi!” they greeted him almost simultaneously, immediately getting out of their seats to greet him.

“Twenty-three!” Hinata whispered up at him, stars in his shining, brown eyes. “That’s- that’s amazing. I’m only twenty-one!”

“Yes, that’s what happens when one is a year and a half older than someone else.” Tsukishima rolled his eyes from his seat on the couch.

Daichi grinned, “Only Hinata.”

Tsukishima stifled a laugh, and they followed his gaze, seeing Kageyama staring at Akaashi as well, arms crossed, a frown upon his face despite the same stars gleaming in his eyes. “How good will I be when I’m that old? Will I surpass your current skills at this age?” he muttered to himself quickly, and Akaashi offered him a smile.

“Tobio-kun,” the younger snapped out of his daze at this, and apologized, slightly stuttering, “Ah- uh, happy birthday, Akaashi-san,” he bowed slightly.

“Thank you, Tobio-kun,” he smiled again, and turned to Hinata, “Thank you, too.”

They both rubbed the back of their necks, and muttered incoherently, and Akaashi’s smile stretched a milliliter wider. The youngest of the group were the most endearing, definitely, and their matching soulmate tattoos only added to the fondness Akaashi felt towards them.

“So, Akaashi,” Kuroo slung his arm around his shoulder, shaking him a little, “I decided to be considerate this year!” He raised his eyebrows, and blinked at him, motioning for him to continue. “Well, usually we just sorta throw a party. Drinking and music and talking, but you don’t even drink, and I don’t know what kind of best friend I’d be if I kept it on any longer.” He rolled his hand as he talked, emphasizing his words. “Anyways, you won’t believe this!” he began excitedly bouncing his leg, “I got us – all of us – tickets to that band you love oh so much.”

“The Frozen Gorillas!” Hinata piped up, and was gently shoved away by his boyfriend who hissed, “Dumbass! Hinata, dumbass! That’s not their name!”

“You…” Akaashi blinked at his friend in surprise, “Are you-“

“Yup!” he grinned proudly, “Kenma’s uncle supervises the arena they’re playing in tonight, so, I thought, wow! What a saint Kuroo-sama would be if he got his loving, deserving, weird little friend tickets for his birthday. So I did.”

“You’re acting like you did any work,” Kenma spoke up in his monotone voice, putting his small gaming console in the pocket of his jacket, “You just asked me. I had to pull the strings.”

“That doesn’t matter Kenma,” Kuroo rushed, and shot a blaringly obvious glare at his lover. The two of them had tattoos of a cat on their left shoulders.

As Akaashi stared at the two of them continue to bicker, his thoughts were focused on processing on what happened. He opened his mouth to thank them, but felt a weight on his shoulder, and met Oikawa’s bright, scheming eyes, “Hey. Akaashi-chan,” he whispered, “Indie bands are cool, but you know what’s cooler? Aliens and museums and the great Oikawa-san!”

“Of course,” he smiled at him, “Thank you, Oikawa-san,” and the elder smiled happily.

“Yo!” Kuroo caught Akaashi’s attention again, “We have to leave right now if we want to be on time.”

“It’s tonight?” he asked, and Kuroo nodded quickly, “Get your crap together guys! We leave now! Anything left here becomes my property!”

He guided Akaashi and Kenma by the shoulders out of his apartment, seeing as he was most attached to them, and Akaashi managed to slip in his sincerest thanks to them. Kenma gave a polite smile and a nod, and Kuroo ruffled his hair. “No problem, dude!”

The three of them and Tsukki piled into Kuroo’s car, and the other four followed them in Oikawa’s. To say the whole thing uplifted Akaashi’s mood was an understatement.

Akaashi was a methodical guy. He did the same things, or similar things, almost every day. So, as a result, he felt the same feelings everyday – tiredness, then boredom, then interest, then some more tiredness, until the next day. He wasn’t charmingly awkward like Kageyama, or comfortable with almost everything like Kuroo.

He was, apparently, as described by Oikawa, ‘almost as attractive as him,’ followed by a peace sign and his tongue sticking out. He was approachable, and every so often got hit on by people on the streets. Despite this, he wasn’t too comfortable with people outside his friends. He could get through with needed contact – asking people for help in classes or nailing presentations with ease. It was the physical things he believed he felt out of place in.

So when they arrived to their seats, and the lights went out before kicking back up, Akaashi must’ve felt incredibly happy to have wrapped his arms around his friend and give him a genuine hug. Kuroo blinked down at the head of curled hair, and grinned, before throwing an arm around his shoulder as well. “A, ‘thank you, Kuroo-sama,’ wouldn’t be uncalled for.”

“Don’t push it,” Kenma’s quiet voice still managed to chime in despite the low burn of the bass through the air and the call of the crowd.

Akaashi smiled, and Kuroo laughed, before turning his head around. His eyes grazed over the entirety of the crowd, “It’s pretty wild for the audience of an indie band.”

Akaashi shrugged, “For the music, it’s reasonable. It’s not blind screaming.”

“True – I once went to a Katy Perry concert, bro, and girls in rainbow wigs are viscous.”

Akaashi stifled a laugh, and turned his head around to see what Kuroo was describing. His dark eyes were finally able to look at people without them turning away in discomfort – he was told he had a somewhat intense stare, not so as much as Kageyama, but one that was more at ease and smug like Oikawa’s.

He wasn’t sure what happened, between the span of time of his eyes raking across the crowd, to lights that suddenly seemed all too loud.

He was observing the audience, most of them seeming to be about five to six years younger or older than him, the age group somewhat consistent. He had been looking right to left, he remembered, observing the slope of the seats going up, seeing as they had ones on the floor. And then, he wasn’t sure what happened, but as he just finished glancing, and turned his head back to the stage, he felt a pulsing in his head.

He didn’t know how to describe it – it was a combination of visual and physical, and even emotional perception. It felt as though he was almost completely blind, for a second, instead of just colorblind, whiteness seeping into his vision and then fading into grey, then black, and he felt as though his body was thrown forward, yet his feet stayed planted on the ground. When he opened his eyes, and everything became clear, there was sense to everything that made his skin heat and cool.

The lights, the crowd in front of him, everything – the light the stage gave felt warm against his cheeks, and a cold breeze swept his fingertips as he looked down at the cement and his shoes. He looked at Kuroo, and saw a physical heat to his cheeks, his eyes still dark, similar to black, but not quite.

His friend noticed him staring and gave him a concerned look, “You okay?”

He wanted to speak, but could only give him a blank look, before turning his head back around, to the left side of the crowd.

They were there, somewhere.

“Who?” Kuroo asked him over the music, leaning over to see what he was looking at. Akaashi didn’t remember saying it outloud, but he answered in a tapered voice,

“Whoever made me see color.”


	2. december 20th - january 1st

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> omg thank you guys so much for reading and commenting and leaving kudos? I honestly didn't expect more than two so it really means a lot. I actually dont believe i finished another chapter, even though it was shorter than originally planned, but whatever. I probably won't be able to update this quickly very often at all, but I'll probably update at least once or twice a week. Here's chapter two!

 

December 20th

Akaashi hadn’t told anyone besides Kuroo and Tsukki about what had happened almost two weeks ago. He had told Kuroo right on the spot, seeing as there was no way he could hide it after explaining that much.

Oikawa knew, too, not because he had told him, but because he was one hell of an eavesdropper, but he supposed he didn’t have too much of a problem with him knowing. Oikawa knew when to draw the line with his teasing and smirks.

He marveled in the way things looked now; bright and dark and warm and cold, so much more depth and meaning and _feeling_ in everything. He felt like an artist with the way he kept on going on and on about them. Everything he did was slower – half of it because he purposely went slower – but the other half was a feeling of wanting to take everything in.

He hadn’t found his soulmate that night, and although it did disappoint him, two weeks later he felt he could admit to himself he wouldn’t mind if he ever did. He had color, now, and he wasn’t yearning to make a new friend. He had his friends, and he, despite being reserved, could muster up the words to say he appreciated and loved them very much.

Although he was able to explain he wasn’t too keen on finding this person, whoever he or she may be, Kuroo and Tsukki – but mostly Kuroo – was dead set on finding them. He dragged Akaashi out almost every single day to the area the arena was in, about a half hour drive away, and would visit various places and interrogate him after pointing out people who he felt ‘fit’ Akaashi.

Apparently, Kuroo thought lightening would burst forth from the heavens above and ignite Akaashi and his partner’s soul if they were within a certain proximity. Akaashi dragged on about how that moment already happened, it had happened when he felt like he was _falling_ before he was born again into the eyes of someone who could actually _see_.

Kuroo replied with a roll of his eyes and stated Akaashi was getting too poetic.

He didn’t deny it.

That day, he utterly ignored all of Kuroo’s texts and calls, and was out of his house by nine in the morning. He didn’t want to travel half an hour to an unfamiliar area to spend his money on his disorderly friend. At least, not when he could travel half an hour to an area he _was_ familiar with and spend his money on his more _orderly_ friends.

Christmas was a mere few days away, and Akaashi doubted he’d be coming home that year, if his mother mustered up enough courage to actually invite him. Maybe he’d send a postcard to his father, who lived across the country in contrast to the hour distance between him and his mother.

He had to go out and shop for his friends’ gifts a few cities over, knowing Kuroo would hunt him and down and drag him by the ends of his curls he if he stayed in their usual prefecture.

About three hours into his day, around noon, he received a text from Tsukki. He invited him to a practice match between their friends and some more people he knew from high school tomorrow. Akaashi turned the idea over in his head for a while before accepting. It’d be another excuse to not go soulmate hunting with Kuroo.

 

December 21st

Akaashi hid a look of disapproval as he put on his shoes, noting he’d have to clean the filth off of them later. The city he lived in had offered him a part time job of giving volleyball lessons, mainly to middle and high schoolers, seeing as he had been the setter of one of Tokyo’s best teams. He called into the city gym that morning and told them he caught a cold, and lessons would resume after Christmas. Tsukki lived two cities over, so, it was fortunate in the sense that no one related to the lessons would discover his lie.

He arrived a little late, considering everyone he knew plus a few more were there. The only person he noticed was absent at the moment was Oikawa. Iwaizumi told him he’d be running late because he had to drop his little cousin off at another babysitter first.

He approached Kuroo and Kenma, who were talking to a boy who was significantly shorter than the rest of them, even Hinata. Although he had a welcoming aura to him, you could see the competitiveness in his eyes as he gazed at Akaashi.

“Wow, it’s Akaashi,” Kuroo gave him a grin and Akaashi refrained from rolling his eyes, “I haven’t seen you, since, like, two days ago. Even though I was supposed to see you yesterday.”

Akaashi replied, “Deciding you want to see me isn’t the same as making plans.”

“Because you wouldn’t answer me,” he glared.

“You’re very tiring to be around, Kuroo-san.”

“It’s true,” Kenma added, eyes locked onto his phone.

The shorter boy grinned, and met Akaashi’s eyes, “I’m Nishinoya. You can call me Noya-senpai!”

“No can do, Noya,” Kuroo chuckled, “Akaashi’s a good few months older than you. He’s _your_ senpai.”

Akaashi had a ghost of a smile on his lips and gave Noya a polite nod, to which the latter laughed at, “Just Noya’s alright, too.”

Noya turned his body and began pointing at people he didn’t recognize, “The baldie’s Tanaka, the one hanging off his shoulder is Ennoshita, the really tall one is Lev, the one that looks like an owl is Bokuto, and the one with the really nice hair is Asahi.”

“Although I’ll doubt I’ll remember, I’ll try to keep it in the back of my mind,” he gave a soft smile, and Noya grinned again.

“You’re not as nearly as annoying as Tsukishima!”

Akaashi chuckled at this, and gave him a wave as he was called over by the one named Asahi.

“Who would’ve guessed Tsukki had friends,” Kuroo crossed his arms and observed the five that had just been introduced to them.

Akaashi added, “It was most likely them that approached him,”

“Probably.”

They started their match about ten minutes later when Oikawa arrived. There were thirteen of them, with Iwaizumi volunteering to be score keeper, much to Oikawa’s dismay. Akaashi was on a team with Kuroo, Noya, Daichi, and two more of which he couldn’t remember their names.

“Where are Hinata-kun and Tobio-kun?” he asked Tsukki from the other side of the net as they rotated positions to face each other.

Tsukki covered his mouth and grinned, “I didn’t invite them because they’re losers.”

“Shut up, Tsukki!” Daichi called out, before turning to explain to Akaashi, “They’re out of town. Who knows what kids do these days.”

Akaashi just smiled, and didn’t say anything about Tsukki and Yamaguchi being the same age as the mentioned.

Once the match was over, Akaashi’s side had won, 24 – 26. He took a sip of his water bottle, watching Kuroo pester Kenma in endearment when he felt golden eyes – he could actually differentiate eyes now - studying him. He turned his head and almost jumped when he saw the owl-looking one two feet away from him, a grin on his face.

“Hey! You’re a really good setter!” he exclaimed, throwing his hands to his sides in excitement, “Do you think you could practice a little longer with me after this? I’d really want to spike your tosses!”

Akaashi unashamedly looked him up and down, and wondered if he was the type of hyper that would grow on him, like Hinata, or would most likely annoy him, like anyone else he knew that was considered hyper. His eyes raked up the streaks of silver and black hair, and wondered which color was the natural one. His eyes were gold and glowing, and it almost made Akaashi feel bad when he thought about his answer.

He knew he was making him feel uncomfortable, as he simply stared back at him for a moment before replying with a brisk, “No.” And he continued drinking his water.

“I-“ the man blinked, his shoulders falling, “Really? Why not?” he tilted his head to the side in despair, and it reminded Akaashi of a dog he once stumbled upon in the streets. He gave the dog food, and he bit him. Akaashi had to go to the hospital.

“I’m busy after this,” he lied. Usually people would have the decency to not be so nosy when requesting something in the first place.

“Oh, okay.” He straightened up a little, and rubbed the back of his neck, and turned his eyes away, “Uh, well, nice game then. I’m Bokuto, by the way.”

Akaashi met his eyes and recalled Noya saying that name. “Akaashi.”

“Akaashi,” he repeated quietly, testing his name on his lips. He felt his fingers curl up as he did so, and felt mildly out of place.

“I’m going to be going, now. Nice to meet you, Bokuto-san.” He gave a curt nod before putting on his jacket and gathering his things. When he turned back around, Bokuto was already gone.

“Amusing one, huh?” Kuroo appeared beside him.

“Bokuto-san?” he questioned.

Kuroo nodded. “Yeah, I’ve known him for a while. We went to training camp together with Tsukki. You really deflated him right now.” He smiled a little. “Anyways, I’ll have the decency to not bother you on the 24th and 25th \- even though you’ll be hanging at my place anyways – but that means tomorrow and the day after that, we need to go double time on finding your violet-friend.”

Akaashi rolled his eyes this time, and Kuroo pinched the tip of his ear.

 

December 27th

Akaashi uncharacteristically let himself fall onto his bed that evening. He had class that morning, then after getting home he had to head straight to the gym where he proceeded in teaching young ones about his beloved sport for three hours, doing so on four hours of sleep. He wasn’t even hungry, and took off his shoes by slipping his heels into the ankles of each foot to push them off. He was halfway asleep when he forced himself to sit up, before even opening his eyes. He had work to do, with a project due right after New Years’.

Akaashi slid his palms along his hairline, pushing his hair back, and trudged out of his room.

He opened his phone for the first time that day, and replied to Noya’s texts. He had grown fond of the shorter one through texts – he was loud, sure, but he had a charm to him. It wasn’t the aggressiveness Tsukki had warned him about, but was more of something Akaashi would describe as pure sincerity and effort in everything he did, and he meant everything.

Noya had told him about how Asahi was his soulmate, and he, like Akaashi, followed the same path of colorblindness to find Asahi. They could only see green, which was a luckier color, seeing as nature as a whole was generally different shades of it. As soon as he entered high school he knew immediately that Asahi was the one that made his eyes open themselves to the rest of the world. The way he described it to him over the phone made Akaashi feel nostalgic at the moment he similarly experienced a little more than three weeks ago.

As Akaashi opened up his textbook, he found himself staring at the ink on the page, the words eventually blurring as his mind floated to different points in time. He wasn’t one to let his emotions overtake him, at least not easily. The only one he let run free was happiness, which was one that was never too overwhelming or consequential, anyways.

He hid annoyance, dissatisfaction, or his tiredness or impatience. One thing he found himself feeling recently, however, was something close to jealousy, but not as genuine. Envy was probably the right word to describe it.

He never found the importance of soulmates, of the difference in a person’s lives before and after they met, besides the initial effect. He continued feeling this way until recently, when the whole thing seemed to collapse on him, and he suddenly felt overwhelmed and blaringly aware of how he actually didn’t have his.

He did, technically, but he was still alone.

It made him feel a little guilty, too, at times. He wondered to himself if it was really the person he wanted, or if it was just the void he wanted to fill. He obviously admitted to himself it was the latter, seeing as he didn’t even know who it was.

He wasn’t looking for anything romantic, at least not at the moment. He didn’t think he could handle it along with school, his job, his friends, and time to waste on trying to get to sleep. He couldn’t even handle it when he was in high school.

Kuroo once set him up on a blind date, and Akaashi didn’t speak to him for two weeks afterwards.

He closed his eyes for a moment before snapping them open. He clicked his pen and traced his thumb along his chapped lip as he tried to focus on the words in front him.

 

January 1st

Akaashi opened his dark eyes, only to be met with something that could rival them, the silence ringing in Kuroo’s apartment. He was always a little too scared, a little too paranoid whenever he woke up.

At night, everything was black and white again.

He sat up, and checked his phone, wincing when the light was too bright for his unadjusted eyes. It was just past five in the morning, and he guessed by the way he felt the dilation in his eyes fading, he wouldn’t be getting back to sleep.

He sighed, and swung his legs over the couch in his friend’s living room. Suga and Daichi were on the couch parallel to him, and he didn’t bother identifying the bodies of what seemed to be like sat least ten of his friends asleep in a pile on the floor. He only noticed Hinata, who was at the very top, his back stretched over the rest of them, drool visible at the corner of his mouth.

He threw his blanket over the younger one, and put another one over Kageyama. His motherly instincts kicked in with the two of them.

He headed into Kuroo’s kitchen, and rolled his eyes as he realized Kuroo was probably down the hall in his room with Kenma, the only ones with a proper place to sleep while the rest of them collapsed where they last stood. He filled up a glass with water and chugged it, and was silently grateful towards his body being tolerant towards alcohol, even though he only ever drank on birthdays and New Years’. The most recent party he was at at the moment was for both New Years’ and Daichi’s birthday.

Akaashi had eagerly went to sleep when he felt himself growing tired, one reason because he didn’t want to drink to the point where he would black out, like he knew most of his friends would, and another reason was because he would get to _fall asleep_ , so of course he took the opportunity.

He almost stepped on Noya’s hand as he trudged back to his couch. Daichi and Kuroo eagerly invited the group they had met at Tsukki’s practice, because according to them, the more the merrier.

Akaashi stood in front of the couch, his legs still not having given in, and his eyes danced along the body who stole his spot in the two minutes he was gone. His eyes were half lidded, and although he wasn’t sleepy, he felt unusually frustrated at the fact he didn’t have his spot to lie down in.

He was familiar with the new addition, now, and let his hand hover over what he remembered to be Bokuto’s arm. He was going to shake him, but then he considered just shoving him, but then decided in doing the best thing to do, which was let him sleep. He wasn’t taking up all of it, he left a side of it that was big enough to sit in, which was what Akaashi did.

His head was near Akaashi’s lap, and he was cautious as to make sure he didn’t sit on any of it, otherwise it’d be painful if he were to roll about in his sleep. Bokuto had a calm expression on his face, Akaashi noticed, unlike Hinata, who still look comically conscious as he dreamt, mouth agape.

Hours passed, and Akaashi found himself leaning against the arm of the chair, attempting to fall asleep but never reached it exactly. He was surprised Bokuto wasn’t shivering – it was especially cold that night. His arms and legs were spread carelessly, almost as if it was summer to him. Akaashi, on the other hand, had selfishly grabbed every blanket he knew existed in Kuroo’s apartment before he retired for the night. He wasn’t too cold now that he was awake, which is why he was able to donate them to the younger couple.

As he watched the minute hand on the clock tick between the space and hit the twelve, he stood up and stretched a bit. It was eight o clock, now, and he was getting hungry. It had gotten warmer in the small room. The sun was streaming through the translucent curtains, and he felt the heat of it on his pale skin when he stepped directly into its path, tiptoeing to avoid stepping on anyone. As he walked through them and reached the hallway that would lead to the apartment’s exit, he turned and glanced at them again.

Bokuto looked terribly isolated, compared to the rest of them laying on each other on the floor, and Suga and Daichi together on the other couch.

He walked out the door and reached floor level, stepping out to see that it was, in fact, a much warmer day compared to the rest of winter so far.

But when Bokuto woke up an hour later, shivering despite the sun’s rays, his fingertips were violet.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> akaashi please open ur eyes
> 
> say hi to me on tumblr at enchantobio!


	3. january 7th - february 19th

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ohhh ok here's chapter three! This sort of length is more what I'm trying to go for, instead of that excuse of 3k last chapter. I'm probably going to edit that one, add in a few extra scenes or something, aha. Thanks for the kudos and the comments! I haven't directly replied, but I've read them and they're all so cute? It makes me smile so much omg, thanks guys.

 

January 7th  
  
Akaashi didn't see his friends for about a week, which was somewhat surprising despite his reserved nature. He continued with his routine in peace, and managed to get six hours of sleep for three nights, and even a full eight hours on one - he didn't remember the last time he had had one, but if he had to guess, it'd probably would have to be before summer had started.  
  
It snowed in the beginning of December, but seemed to have stopped for almost a month until about two days ago. He stepped on the snow, instead of the cement walkway like he usually did as he walked a few blocks down to a grocery store. He had to visit one often if he was going to get a bearable amount to carry the way back, but Kuroo had memorized his schedule, and usually offered him help or let him borrow his car.  
  
But, for now, he was walking, and he enjoyed it. His eyelashes contrasted from his pale skin, the blood rushing to his lips and cheeks and his palms, although they were covered in thin gloves. He was wearing his favorite scarf - a violet one Kuroo gave him, since at the time violet was all he saw. When it came to clothes, he only wore black and white, and grew accustomed to how dark a shade should be for it to actually he pure black instead of an incredibly dark color, and vice versa with white. But now, he was able to add a little bit of color, with blue shirts, or the new boots he bought recently that he learned was what brown looked like.  
  
His usually somewhat tamed hair was pushed back in beanie, and although it managed to keep his ears warm and from turning red, he found it annoying how it made his hair curl back and almost stab the side of his face.  
  
As he walked through the automatic sliding doors, he took off his gloves and continued to buy what he needed to buy. As he walked through an aisle, his eyes running across different brands of energy drinks, he turned his head only a little and caught sight of sandy blonde hair.  
  
"Tsukishima-san?" He called, his head tilting a bit to see his face.  
  
His suspicions were confirmed as the man in front of him turned at the sound of his name, and gave him a nod, "Akaashi," his name was murmured, "I should've expected you here. Kuroo says you come here on Thursdays and Sundays."  
  
He felt his lips twitch upward at the thought of Kuroo, for some reason, mentioning that to Tsukki, but he wasn't sure if it was enough for it to actually he visible.  
  
He questioned, "How about you? You don't live around here."  
  
He fixed his glasses before replying, "Yeah. But my gym is under construction and yours is the best one around here. I'm with Bokuto - you remember him, right? Well, we're just here specifically to get some stuff. I'm getting drinks, Bokuto's down a few aisles getting energy bars."  
  
Akaashi furrowed his eyebrows, "My gym's closed today, actually. I'm teaching volleyball lessons in a short while, so its closed to the public for the next few hours."  
  
His friend pursed his lips, obviously not pleased at the news presented to him before he offered Akaashi a small smile. "You think you could let in two dear friends of yours?"  
  
Akaashi was expecting him to ask, and mirrored the smile, "Of course. On the condition, that you serve as an example for blocking. I'm not too good with it, so it'd be nice to have you demonstrate."  
  
Tsukishima nodded, "That'd be fine. Bokuto could demonstrate spiking. He was one of the top five aces in the country back when he was in high school."  
  
Akaashi raised an eyebrow, "The owl?"  
  
"Hey, hey, hey!" Tsukki blinked behind Akaashi, and he could feel the mentioned man behind him, grinning. "Tsukishima!" he called, "What flavor did you want?"  
  
"Anything's fine," he replied, and Akaashi heard footsteps fade, before coming back louder, quicker. "Ohoho?"  
  
Akaashi turned his head at this and Bokuto's hand waved erratically at him, and approached him excitedly, a bounce in his step. "Akaashi! Why haven't you called me?"  
  
"Not sure what you're talking about, Bokuto-san."  
  
"Me neither, actually." He grinned at him, "Hey! You should come practice with me and Tsukki! You can toss to me, and I'll spike it, and Tsukki can - try - to block it!"  
  
Akaashi smiled a bit at the enthusiasm and replied, "I'm actually going to be slightly preoccupied. I'm giving out lessons at the gym soon, and although its supposed to be closed, I'm letting you guys in if you agree to be examples."  
  
Tsukishima added, "I already agreed."  
  
"I wasn't going to say no," he informed Akaashi before rolling onto the balls of his feet, "Okay, gotta grab a few stuff. Be back in a little," he nodded happily and turned the corner.  
  
"Would you like to come stop by my apartment for the time being? The gym's locked, until I get there."  
  
"I'd appreciate it," he nodded, and obtained the keys from Akaashi to his apartment. "We'll be waiting," he spoke as a farewell, followed by a nod, before disappearing around the same corner Bokuto had just moments ago.  
  
Akaashi finished gathering what he needed to buy, and paid for it quickly, finishing in about ten minutes. He slipped his gloves back on and started the short walk back.  
  
His eyes followed the same footprints he created walking to the store, and he felt an odd sort of ease in stepping into them again on the way back. He was quite looking forward to that particular day of training - with Tsukishima and Bokuto, perhaps it'd be easier to teach with people who actually played different positions. Although Akaashi was an incredible setter, it'd be foolish to say he could teach by himself. It'd be like playing on a team by himself.  
  
He knocked on his own door, and waited only a few seconds before he heard the door unlock followed by Bokuto grinning at him, now wearing a pair of large, pink ear warmers.  
  
"Akaashi!" He reached for his wrist and pulled him inside gently, closing the door and telling him, "Your place is so clean and pretty! Mine's terrible, you should come over some time, you'll see. I think the only area where it's actually considered clean is where I keep all my exercising things," he admitted with a chuckle. "Anyways, it suits you here."  
  
Akaashi gave him a faint smile, "Thank you, Bokuto-san."  
  
"You can drop the -san," he waved off, walking into his living room.  
  
"Haven't been here in a while, Akaashi," Tsukki spoke, eyes glazing over every inch of the walls.  
  
"Yeah, me neither," Bokuto joked, lifting himself to sit on one of the counters in the small kitchen.  
  
Akaashi told them, "Give me another ten minuted to get ready," he placed his bags on the counter behind where Bokuto sat, and began taking things out.  
  
"Akaashi! I can do that for you!" He volunteered himself, motioning to the bags, "You can just change your clothes."  
  
Akaashi furrowed his eyebrows, eyeing at Bokuto, who had the same smile plastered on his face, looking at him expectantly to reply.  
  
"Are you sure?" He finally asked.  
  
"Of course! You're helping us after all, it's no big deal." Akaashi blinked, "Ok, then. Thank you."  
  
He hummed happily and strolled to where Akaashi was, and began putting things away in cabinets and the fridge, doing so slowly after observing and deciding where things should belong.  
  
Akaashi met Tsukki's eyes as he went down the hall to his room, and gave him a questioning look, to which Tsukki shrugged.  
  
Akaashi changed into clothes more suited for activity, rather than snow clothes, but kept on his beanie, scarf, and gloves. When he came back outside, Bokuto proceeded in shutting everything he had opened, huffing and looking at his kitchen with a proud look.  
  
His eyes floated over to where Tsukishima was, and raised an eyebrow at seeing his friend stifling a laugh. "Care to share?" Tsukishima waved it off, and motioned to Bokuto with a slight lift of his chin.  
  
He walked to the man, and thanked him again. "Oh, Akaashi, look." He opened up a cabinet, "You seem like a really organized guy, so I put your groceries in alphabetical order. Look, the baking powder, then baking soda, then corn starch, all the way." He looked back at Akaashi, the same expecting look in his eyes.  
  
Akaashi gave him a full smile, and a breathy laugh escaped him. He had a charmingly simple side to him, he thought, like Kageyama or Noya. Bokuto grinned when he saw his reaction and shut the doors again.  
  
"Tsukishima! Let's go!" His said, a bit loudly considering the small distance between them, but it didn't faze Akaashi.  
  
  
  
January 21st  
  
Akaashi opened his door at the sound of a sharp, quick knock, which he recognized as Tsukishima's. His eyes met the warm brown ones of his close friend, and he greeted him with a polite nod. They were sat on the couch, and Tsukishima had a cup of tea, staring down into it as Akaashi waited for him to speak.  
  
He opened his mouth and closed it, before finally starting a minute later, "When did you start seeing in color, again?"  
  
Akaashi furrowed his eyebrows, taken a little bit back by the topic, but only showed it on his face for a brief moment. "My birthday. The 5th."  
  
Tsukishima blinked behind his glasses and finally looked at him, "I'm not going to beat around the bush anymore."  
  
"I'd appreciate it," he tensed the muscles im his face to resemble something like a smile.  
  
"I think you should talk to Bokuto about that."  
  
At hearing the words, Akaashi narrowed his eyes at his blonde friend. "If you're trying to kid with me, I'll kick you out and you can head back to your place with no jacket."  
  
Tsukishima rolled his eyes, "I respect you, Akaashi. You're not Kuroo."  
  
Akaashi pursed his lips at this, and gave an expression of the slightest of interest as he motioned for him to explain a little bit more. Akaashi's eyes followed a pattern in the pieces of the carpet as Tsukishima continued, "We were talking about soulmates, and I was telling him about how I met Tadashi, and he was really interested in it. Even more enthusiastic than normal. After I finished, though, he went into one of his dejected modes."  
  
Although Akaashi wasn't sure exactly what that meant, he didn't say anything, and his friend went on, "He started telling me about his own story, which was something he never really mentioned before. He said his soulmate sign, or whatever experience you have when you meet, happened to him while he was in a crowd. He was colorblind when I met him, and I thought he still was. He could only see purple."  
  
"Violet?" He asked.  
  
Tsukishima weakly shrugged, "Purple. There's no difference in basic colors when it comes to people who aren't artists, Akaashi."  
  
He considered it, "I suppose so."  
  
To say what Akaashi was feeling was a specific emotion wasn't accurate; although he still had a suspicion in the back of his mind that this was a joke, (most likely thrown together by Kuroo) the other half of him had thoughts filled with what ifs, and it made his head throb when he realized he wasn't completely disgusted at the thought of it actually being Bokuto.  
  
His eyes scanned his friend's face, trying to find something that would give away his lie, if it was one. Twitches around his mouth, any stress put on his eyebrows - anything that would give him away, and yet he found nothing.  
  
His voice finally ripped from his throat, sounding dry after nervously gulping too much while they were in silence. "And- " he dragged on slowly, and didn't hesitate in hiding the narrow of his eyes, his usually softer ones suddenly reminding Tsukishima of steel, "-you're absolutely serious here, Tsukishima-kun?"  
  
The honorific was almost spit out of his mouth, and Tsukishima nodded easily, not fazed. "I'm doing this out of concern, why would I voluntarily travel all the way here for some joke? It's not like I'd get anything out of it - Bokuto is most likely to talk to me if you initiate it, so in reality I set myself up for death." He pursed his lips.  
  
Akaashi gave one more glance at his face before sighing, "Alright. I'll talk to him about it. Could you give me his number?"  
  
He nodded and stood up, replying, "I'll text it to you."  
  
Akaashi nodded again, tiredly rubbing the corner of an eye. "I'm telling you right now, Tsukishima-kun, I have no interest in him, at least in the way I'm assuming he is; if I do end up talking to him, and if I find out through questions that he is my," he paused, the word refusing to come out his throat, "soulmate, I won't tell him."  
  
Tsukishima gave him a wary look, "You will, in time. He'll make you interested. Bokuto's a gravitating person, although I know you're just as stubborn." He left with another word, the door shutting even quieter than the breath Akaashi let out as he sat back, chest somewhat heaving.  
  
  
  
January 29th  
  
Akaashi hadn't gone around to texting Bokuto. He had gotten his number about half an hour later after Tsukishima left, before receiving a lengthy, well worded paragraph about how much he hated transportation. The same reason Akaashi walked everywhere.  
  
He had told himself that he was going to set up a day to meet him, but the mental reminder slipped out every time he went to school, his mind finally focused on his work. He did occasionally become aware of the task whenever he went to his job; volleyball was the only topic in his life remotely related to the respective player. However, it usually faded when he arrived home, his body falling too quick for his slow step, his mind even slower.  
  
He clicked his mechanical pencil six times, the led sticking out far too much, making it far too delicate. He laced the led through the spaces between the stitches of the soft, burgundy thread that made up his sweater. He was delightfully surprised when he found the sweater he bought a year ago was one of the most flattering colors, in his opinion. He pulled the end of his sleeve with the fingers on that same hand, his eyes focusing on the minuscule pattern in it. He was too unfocused on the more important things around him - the blanks in his worksheet - and decided to concentrate and let his mind wander about and imagine the creation of the article on his body.  
  
Not a soul in his classes would imagine what a procrastinator Akaashi was with the way he seemed to perfect everything with ease. At the same time, it was the reason Akaashi figured he had so much to time to procrastinate in the first place.  
  
His eyes darted briefly to his phone that suddenly lit up on the table, the vibration of it erupting through the wood and feeling its soft waved against his knee. Tsukishima asked if he had talked to Bokuto.  
  
He laced the led through another section of his sleeve, the message unanswered.  
  
  
  
February 4th  
  
"Noya-san," he started, blinking at the slightly younger boy who waited for his question, "are there any other effects? To the colors?"  
  
"Effects?" He rested his arms over the table between them.  
  
They were at a small bakery in the city in between their respective ones, the weather outside somewhat cold despite the sun streaking through broken clouds. A light layer of snow was littered on the floor, and Akaashi guessed it'd be the last week of it.  
  
Noya's shoulders rose as he fixed his coat, "Like, besides gaining it? A whole lot, yeah. I'm surprised you don't know about them."  
  
Akaashi recited, "I wasn't ever too interested in the subject."  
  
He slightly tilted his head left and right, thinking about, "I guess that's reasonable. I may not know about all of the effects, but I've noticed a few. Whenever Asashi is sick, everything seems washed out, sort of. Like I'm wearing a pair of grey, tinted sunglasses."  
  
Akaashi arched an eyebrow, "Really, now?"  
  
"Sounds weird, but it isn't, after happening a few times, at least." He let out small laughs in between his words, "The first time it happened, I was sulking for two days! I thought I was just actually going colorblind again!" He gave a small thank you to the waitress who brought out his drink, the smile still making his large eyes crinkle.  
  
"Uh, what else?" He pondered aloud, looking at the ceiling as he leaned back in his seat. "Oh!" He popped back up, "This is sort of, uh, tragic sounding, but I've heard that when your soulmate dies, your colors completely leave, including the one you originally had."  
  
"The original one, too?" Akaashi repeated.  
  
"Yup," Noya popped the p, "But I wouldn't know for sure, since, y'know, Asahi isn't dead."  
  
"It does sound tragic," Akaashi murmured, stirring his coffee.  
  
Noya nodded, "Imagine someone never finding them, and the only thing that ever happens is that they lose their original color, and bam! it hits them that they're dead, and they missed their chance." He shivered a second after finishing.  
  
Akaashi frowned, unaware of the pessimistic side of his usually blinding friend.  
  
Noya laughed sheepishly, pushing the bleached streaks of his hair back, "Anyways, uh, the last one I can recall is sorta fun. If you see a rainbow, your soulmate's eyes will change color throughout the day to fit each one."  
  
"That's a little far fetched," Akaashi frowned, but was amused nonetheless.  
  
Noya shrugged, "We've been colorblind our whole lives. The least they can do is give us a soulmate with actual rainbows in their eyes."  
  
Akaashi gave him a small smile, "It seems fair when you say it like that."  
  
"I looked up the details of that one, by the way." He added, "I had no idea what was happening when _my_ Asahi's eyes were _blue._  Asahi's eyes are the color of literal shit."  
  
Akaashi snickered, and Noya questioned after calming down, "Mind if I ask why you're suddenly interested?"  
  
He admitted after a beat, "I'm thinking I've met him."  
  
"Oh, really?" His friend leaned over excitedly, grabbing his shoulder and lightly shaking it, "That's exciting!"  
  
He grimaced a little bit, knowing that the man in question was good friends with Noya, "It's Bokuto."  
  
"I-" his eyes widened, "Uh, I...uh, um," his eyes squinted at the ceiling, "Odd."  
  
Akaashi cocked an eyebrow, "The ceiling? Or the situation?"  
  
"The situation," he replied quickly in a somewhat apologetic tone, "Uh, it's just that- well, I doubt it."  
  
Akaashi scrunched up his eyebrows, "I did, too, but it was more of a feeling than a theory."  
  
"Yeah," he nodded, taking a sip before continuing, "Bokuto started seeing in color more than a year ago."  
  
He could feel his expression turning into one of distraught, piecing things together, some things being explained, while more questions formed. He opened his mouth and hesitated before questioning, "And you said that he started seeing in color, but not that he found his soulmate?"  
  
"He hasn't," Noya confirmed. "He was really bummed about it the first few months, but after a while he sort of got over it. He's still on the lookout, obviously, but there's a way he can really confirm anything anymore. Recently he seems to have become a little down again. I'd say the past month," he blinked, and stared at the space above Akaashi's head before repeating, "Yeah, 'bout a month."  
  
"Has he experience any effects?" Akaashi leaned slightly back in his chair.  
  
"The sickness one a few times." Noya answered after a moment. "Do you have feelings for Bokuto, Akaashi?"  
  
He shook his head, "I can't say I do. I barely know him."  
  
"Oh, ok." He shrugged, "I just assumed, since you seemed kind of intent on finding out."  
  
"Wouldn't you feel a little curious?"  
  
"Guess you're right," he admitted, and glanced at his phone, "Ah, I gotta go. Asashi and I are going to Tokyo in two days and I need to finish a few things."  
  
"Alright," Akaashi nodded, "See you when you get back?"  
  
Noya grinned, "Obviously. Good luck on your owl hunt," he giggled to himself, patting his shoulder on the way out. Akaashi sighed and rubbed the back of his head. He drank what was left in his cup quickly before stepping out, his hands curled into the pockets of his jacket. He had almost missed the streak of seven colors faded behind the clouds.  
  
  
  
February 8th  
  
"Akaashi!" his name was called in a hushed voice, and he turned his head, his eyes scanning the crowd before finding the owner of the voice was a few feet away.  
  
"Bokuto-san," he greeted, putting his hand out but thinking twice about it before lowering it back to his lap.  
  
"I was surprised when you asked me to come," he smiled at him, "I didn't even know you had my number."  
  
"Tsukishima gave it to me," he replied simply, and got up from the steel chair sitting outside a small restaurant. "Would you like to get anything before we go?"  
  
"Where are we going? Back to your's?" Bokuto asked, rewrapping the thick, violet scarf around his neck. Akaashi stared at it, and saw a resemblance between it and his own.  
  
"Just around," Akaashi replied after a moment, meeting the other's curious eyes, "I just wanted to talk. I figured it'd be the most unnerving to walk."  
  
"Alright," he smiled, "Can we do something afterwards? There are lots of cool places here, but whenever I'm around this area it's either for Tsukki or Kuroo. All they ever do is play video games or practice."  
  
He nodded in understanding, "Yeah, I've witnessed that firsthand myself."  
  
"I mean," he began again, "I do those things, like I wouldn't doubt I actually do it more than them, but it's just a waste to live in such a nice area and not doing anything outdoors," he sighed.  
  
The younger gave a small smile, "Where do you live?"  
  
"Small town," he replied, "almost near the coast."  
  
"Really? You must travel a lot, if I see you around every so often." Bokuto began walking, remembering what Akaashi had said, and replied, "It's not too far. Where I attend classes is already a good fraction of the way, so I come around a lot."  
  
"I see," Akaashi nodded, eyeing the man beside him. He seemed to be giving off a different sort of vibe from the other times they had met, although he hardly remembered him being at Daichi's birthday. _He seems to be calmer,_ he decided, quickly glancing away when golden eyes met his. He didn't know him too long, but he could usually get used to the general gist of people's personalities after a few times. He had spent a longer amount of time with him and Tsukishima a few weeks ago, almost three hours if he recalled. He cleared his throat as he realized there was a silent lull in the conversation, "What are you studying?"  
  
"Engineering," he grinned proudly.  
  
"Math genius?" Akaashi smiled a little.  
  
"I actually am! I'm not sure how. I wasn't too great in middle school but it just started coming to me naturally in high school," he shrugged, the trace of his smile still on his lips. "What about you?"  
  
"Surgeon." He replied.  
  
The corners of his mouth twitched upwards when he saw Bokuto's eyebrows raise, "Really? Wow. I guess I know who to call, then."  
  
Akaashi shrugged, "I still have a lot of schooling to get through."  
  
Bokuto gave him a sad smile, "You're always doing that."  
  
"Doing," he blinked, "-what?"  
  
"Like-" Bokuto tilted his head, "like you're always disproving anything that compliments you, or something."  
  
Akaashi gave him a blank look, "How?"  
  
"Like, right now. I thought your field was cool, but then you had to talk about how you still have a lot of time left to go."  
  
"That's not disproving," Akaashi argued, not understanding what he meant, "It's a fact."  
  
"Ok, ok," Bokuto waved his hands, letting out a small squeak as he almost fell of the curb, "Uh, bad example." Akaashi gave him an amused look, and his smile slightly grew when he saw the embarrassed look on the other's face. "A few weeks ago at your gym, then," Bokuto started again, trying to switch the subject, "I was talking about your tosses, and then you immediately started talking about how you know two others who are much better than you - I don't believe it, by the way."  
  
Akaashi replied lowly, "Well, I wasn't going to brag, Bokuto-san."  
  
"I didn't say you had to brag, Akaashi," he began dramatically in a voice Akaashi could connect to a six year old crying about a toy, "All I'm saying is that it's fine for you to be proud of what you accomplish."  
  
"I am proud," he insisted easily, his eyes narrowing at the ground in front of him, following a crack in the sidewalk. They entered the park near Akaashi's apartment.  
  
Bokuto repeated the same, soft smile, "That's good, then." Akaashi pursed his lips, refusing to look at him. Yet, he felt a bit of guilt creep up in his mind when he saw the smile slip off the other's face from the side of his eye. He wasn't aware of the seemingly carefulness in his nature.  
  
He seemed to be the person with scraped knees and bruises, and a chipped tooth to prove all the hastiness he possessed. Instead, he saw stumbling legs and flushed cheeks, and a gentle smile that he suddenly wished he hadn't tried to ignore.  
  
Despite this, he felt that Bokuto may or may not get the wrong idea if he showed too much concern for everything he did. He had pretended to ignore it, after all. _It'd be odd for me to apologize for something I hadn't even seen,_ he thought, and pushed what had just happened out of his mind.  
  
"Uh, what did you want to talk about, exactly?" Bokuto spoke just in time, his shoulders suddenly looking too heavy for the rest of his body.  
  
Akaashi hummed, "Nothing. Not anymore, at least."  
  
  
  
February 10th  
  
"Akaashi, you're a fool," his blonde friend put his head in his hands, "All you had to do was ask. Don't tell me you're getting petty little middle school feelings over this." There was a hint of what seemed to be malice in his voice, but was replaced by disappointment.  
  
"I'm not," he clipped, "I don't think I have to ask him. I don't think it's necessary anymore, is what I mean."  
  
Tsukishima raised an eyebrow, "What are you getting at?"  
  
"Noya-san told me that Bokuto had received his color more than a year ago." Akaashi gave his friend a pointed look, but there was a slight moment of doubt in his argument when he saw his friend's expression, unchanged. "I thought I'd meet up with him to see if I felt anything at all, just as a last resort, and frankly, I don't. He's a nice one, I suppose, but I'm not interested in him. I wouldn't go out of my way to talk to him." he said, unsure if his voice would crack under the other's glare.  
  
There was another sigh, before the line was repeated, "Akaashi, you're a fool. Honestly, now," there was a small smile on his face, and he was shaking his head, obviously finding the situation amusing. Akaashi sighed and leaned back in his chair, folding his hands across his stomach as he waited for him to continue.

  
_Honestly, now._ Akaashi had come to know that whenever Tsukki said that, he was right and he knew it. He'd be a good lawyer some day, he thought offhandedly before his attention was snapped back by the low voice. "People with your color dilemma don't necessarily have to gain them at the same time." he said simply, a smugness in his eyes Akaashi could easily identify even behind his glasses. He allowed the words to hang in the air as Akaashi's mind began attaching ideas and answers together.  
  
"If what you're implying is that more than a year ago, Bokuto saw me somehow, and gained color, but I didn't see him, then the chances are slim." He spoke evenly, "They always have been, now that I think about it." He shook his head and sat up straight, "There are only seven colors in the rainbow. One in seven people with this sort of condition will see purple, so why are you set on it being him?" He could feel himself getting defensive, and lightly bit his lip as he reminded himself to cut the edge off his voice.  
  
As he waited for an answer, he noticed it almost looked like his friend wasn't breathing, words obviously stuck between his throat and the air. "I'm not set on it being him. I just feel like it's right." He admitted, a frown on his face, "And that's not a good reason, I know, and you can believe it or not, but I know I'm right."  
  
Akaashi pinched the bridge of his nose, "It's fine, it's fine. Let's just-" he opened his eyes and shook his head, "-forget this happened. Everything was already complicated before your theory, and I frankly don't care if I'm standing next to my soulmate without knowing it, I don't need one."  
  
Tsukishima rolled his eyes, "That's what I thought until I met Tadashi." Akaashi didn't meet his eyes, instead he chose to follow the hem of his sweater. It was the burgundy one he grew especially attached to.  
  
"Did the King ever tell you how he and the annoying one met?" Tsukishima spoke up in a slow tone minutes later. Akaashi shook his head vaguely, and he continued, "Well, believe it or not, the King and I were somewhat more of friends than I'd like to admit in our first year." He fixed his glasses, "About a week into the year, he started seeing in color. He was really happy, obviously. The idiot spilled his milk on me," he spoke in a flat tone, and Akaashi could imagine the gears turning in his head as he recalled the memory.  
  
"I had three classes with the short one. I'd talk to him twice, I thought he was pretty annoying. He _is_ pretty annoying," he rephrased, "But I felt like I was inclined to sort of stick around him, so I did. About a few weeks later, I think the week before volleyball tryouts, I introduced him to Kageyama, and he fell on his face when he began seeing color. So basically, I was right about my gut feeling to keep him around."  
  
Akaashi spoke up immediately, still unconvinced, "They would've met regardless."  
  
"Maybe so. The point is, though, I knew about it, before their regardless little meeting."  
  
Akaashi cocked an eyebrow, "Is this evidence? Or are you trying to boost your ego?"  
  
His friend gave a smirk, "We aren't in court, and I'd prefer something with a little more merit to boost my ego." He zipped up his jacket, "Just believe me on this. Soulmates. Think about it. Soulmates are people with their souls in sync. How could I not recognize your soul, who I've known for six years, and Bokuto's, who wedges his soul into your brain even if you don't want it there."  
  
Akaashi furrowed his eyebrows, "Souls aren't diseases."  
  
"I'm well aware," he spoke lowly, and stood up from his seat at Akaashi's dining table. He repeated, "Just find some way. Just pretend you want to find him, for even a second. You're book smart, Akaashi. Read between the lines that've been given to you."  
  
  
  
February 16th  
  
He had managed to almost completely lower the unnecessary thoughts about everything that had managed to consume him for a good two weeks. He didn't doubt Tsukishima very much, in the end. He actually was leaning towards believing that what he said could be true. He had never come to think about the possibility of soulmates experiencing their signs separately, most likely due to the fact of exaggerated and ideal scenarios romantics seemed to dream of everywhere they went.  
  
He closed his eyes for a moment, the words on the brittle, slightly discolored page seeming to blur just enough to make his brain throb. _I need glasses,_ he thought, almost saying the words out loud, but he didn't want the only thing he heard to be the echo of his own words back to him. He slid his palm up to the base of his hairline, keeping the hair there and out of his eyes. _I need to get a haircut as well._  
  
It was nine, the sun long down, and he imagine the millions of people waking up to the same sun he had more than twelve hours ago. It had stopped snowing, and the raining season was coming. Although it rained often yearlong, he never got sick of it. He found it comforting, how the weather seemed to move constantly and provide company while he lived alone. He wasn't bothered by his loneliness, though; he found it relaxing for the most part, it complimented the weather's steady beat in contrast to a person's unpredictable speech pattern.  
  
Bokuto was in no way a bother to him, Akaashi concluded he did enjoy his company, and it was one of the instances where Akaashi found out why people claimed, it's not you, it's me. It really was just him, though. He didn't want a significant other, and even if he wanted a friend, there was no reason he had to confirm them being soulmates in order to do so.  
  
In some ways, it somewhat scared him to think what would happen if Bokuto ever gained the suspicion of whatever was between them. Noya had told him about how Bokuto went searching for a year, and with the way he recently learned how he traveled for the span of hours frequently, he must have got a lot of ground covered. He drew the thought based on this that Bokuto was a romantic, and he looked like it, despite his friendly, and almost seemingly strictly to friends, demeanor.  
  
He had texted Bokuto every so often over the days since he visited. Although Akaashi felt a slight embarrassment at how when he invited him over that day, and said he had wanted to talk about something important, only to dismiss it fifteen minutes after his arrival, he was able to push it away by the next day.  
  
_The best thing to do is to keep a distance between us,_ he thought as he misspelled the same word three times in a row. _It'd be the best for both of us._ There'd be a vast difference in Bokuto if he were to find out they were soulmates, if they were in the first place. Akaashi was almost sure of it at that point, however. He felt the air in the room change when he talked to him, he felt his body temperature rise whenever his name crossed his mind, and he felt like he was almost sitting next to him whenever he pressed the send button. What he felt was a sign of their souls, though, not romance whatsoever. Soulmates were best friends before lovers, after all.  
  
With this phrase engraved in his mind, he had second thoughts on completely pushing Bokuto away, if they were, what Akaashi described, best friends. _Well,_ he countered himself, _I said I'd keep a distance, not push him away._  
  
He found himself texting him exactly four minutes later.  
  
  
  
February 17th  
  
"Bro, bro. What the hell. Are you screwing with me or are you begging me to kick your ass?" Kuroo grinned at him, lightly nudging Akaashi's head. "I'm kind of upset I had to hear it from Tsukki, though," he rolled his eyes, "But anyways - Bokuto. Jump on it."  
  
Akaashi narrowed his eyes at him, which he realized were darker than even Kuroo's seemingly pitch black ones. "I'm jumping on the next train if you don't drop it."  
  
"Drag!" the faint voice of Oikawa called from the kitchen.  
  
Kenma snorted, his legs crossed and seated on the couch next to Kuroo. His lover frowned at this, "Don't laugh at me."  
  
"Stop getting dragged and I'll consider it. You're embarrassing," he blinked up at him, raising an eyebrow before returning his eyes to the homework in front of him.  
  
Kuroo frowned again, and turned to Akaashi, "I can see why you're avoiding falling in love." Kenma sighed at this, and offered him the affection of leaning his head on his shoulder, the darker haired of the two of them grinning happily, taking it as an unspoken apology.  
  
"I don't think I'd love him, anyways." Akaashi murmured, looking at the tips of his fingers. Kenma looked up from his work and made eye contact with his boyfriend, both of them sensing the sudden shift in the atmosphere.  
  
"You've talked to him maybe four times. It took me three months to fall in love with Kenma in high school, and we saw each other for eight hours a day, five days a week."  
  
Kenma argued, "You switched everything up. You asked me out for three months straight until I said yes."  
  
Kuroo awkwardly scoffed, "Liar. I only gave you a chance because I swore I saw the same tattoo on your shoulder once during volleyball practice."  
  
"You pointed it out publicly on the first day and asked me to marry you on the spot."  
  
"That doesn't even matter," he laughed nervously, his shoulders shaking in exaggerated humor. "Anyways, Akaashi. Spend more time with him. I think you should, anyways. I'm not sure why you're holding yourself back."  
  
"I don't have the time," he responded. Kuroo scoffed again, "C'mon. You're here, now. This is time."  
  
"I have time for classes, my job, my friends, and my sleep. That's all." He clarified.  
  
"Soulmates are best friends, isn't that what you say?" Oikawa raised an eyebrow as he walked in, a plate full of layered sandwiches.  
  
"Thanks for making me a sammich," Kuroo mocked in an overly masculine voice.  
  
Oikawa stopped in his tracks before offering a wide, blaringly fake smile. He walked down the hall, and they heard the door to the apartment open briefly and then close seconds after, returning with one less sandwich on the plate. "Your sandwich is accumulating minuscule bacteria in the hallway, Tetsurou-chan," he smiled innocently.  
  
"I-" Kuroo blinked in disbelief, "I was mocking them!"  
  
"Mocking, who? Mocking me?" Oikawa's eyebrow twitched, "This is my apartment too, you little brat-"  
  
"You moved in last week," Kuroo spit.  
  
"I'll leave. Good luck, Kenma-san." Akaashi briefly frowned and stood up, fixing his shirt.  
  
"Oh, no, Keiji-chan! Don't leave because of Kuroo's lack of manners, we'll stop. It's alright." Oikawa waved off, grabbing his wrist gently and looking at him with an apologetic look.  
  
"Oh, yeah, ok." His other friend muttered, "For _Keiji-chan_."  
  
"Akaashi's better than you," Kenma snipped bluntly and Kuroo leaned his body weight on his boyfriend, whining incoherently before the dyed blonde began grinning a little, "Stop, Kuroo."  
  
"Uh huh. That's what I thought," he smiled, victorious, and turned back to Akaashi, "Anyways, I think you should try to spend more time with him. Just let things happen. Don't put effort into avoiding him. You didn't put any effort into becoming friends with me, and here we are now. Even if you doubt it, don't. The world isn't filled with 7 billion people when it comes to soulmates. You know how many people would die alone if the distance was that far?"  
  
Oikawa nodded, replying smoothly, "He's right, actually. Iwa-chan and I have been friends since we were in diapers, and we never realized our mirrored marks on our bodies until our second year in high school when I scraped my entire calf. Soulmates are meant to find each other, Keiji-chan." He took a small nibble of a riceball.  
  
"I'd have went to the back of the line if I'd known I'd be stuck with him in high school," Kenma noted with a blunt voice, but the hint of a smile and the slight crinkle in the corner of his eye gave away his lighthearted intentions.  
  
Kuroo chuckled at this, noticing this as well, and ducked his head swiftly, planting a peck on his cheek. "Bleh," he stuck his tongue out, "Hair in my mouth."  
  
"My hair's in a bun. That was probably yours."  
  
"Oho? Maybe I should do it again and see if that's true."  
  
"Lame."  
  
"Kenma-chan is very adaptable to all forms of idiocy, it seems." Oikawa grinned, his eyes narrowing slightly at Kuroo, almost challenging him to say something back.  
  
" _Go eat a floor sandwich._ "  
  
"The one with your name on it?"  
  
Kuroo opened his mouth, their bantering not rising in volume but instead hardening in intensity. The words began forming at the tip of his tongue, but he shut it immediately at the sound of a phone vibration, the steam seemingly cooling off within a second, Oikawa likewise.  
  
"Bokuto-san," Akaashi confirmed their thoughts, staring at the notification.  
  
"What'd he say?" Kuroo asked, reaching out to grab a sandwich before receiving a quick swat to his wrist and a glare from warm brown eyes.  
  
"Nothing," Akaashi replied, locking his phone's screen and placing it back in his lap, reaching out for a riceball as well.  
  
Kuroo and Oikawa exchanged glances, "They're already in the secretive denial phase," Oikawa had the ghost of his signature smirk on his face.  
  
Akaashi narrowed his eyes at him, and proceeded in sliding his phone over the table to him, "He sent me a picture of a grade he got on a recent test. He really is well at math."  
  
Oikawa peered over at it, adjusting his thick glasses, "Oh, yeah. Well."  
  
"Ok, forgive us now, Akaashi, if we show signs of being over enthusiastic about this. We're just happy for you, is all." Kuroo gave him a small smile.  
  
"A bit confused, too," Oikawa mimicked the smile, "But happy. My little kohai is growing up."  
  
"If you want advice, Akaashi," Kenma spoke up in a mellow voice, "I think...I think you should set up a date with him, or just hang out, because...you're complex and simple at the same time, I know. And you may think you're satisfied with your life, but satisfaction shouldn't be your goal, it should be being happy. You can't say you're happy without something if you're oblivious to what you're missing."  
  
Oikawa leaned his cheek on his palm, looking at the second year with a trace of admiration in his eyes.  
  
"This is my boyfriend," Kuroo blurted out seconds after.  
  
"We know," Oikawa gave a soft smile before turning to Akaashi, "Keiji-chan. Although you're book smart, don't let memorized vocabulary and ink mess with your actual intelligence."  
  
  
  
February 19th  
  
Akaashi slipped his boots off - the deep brown ones he had mentioned before, and looked up at the other as a silent way to ask where should he place them.  
  
"The doorway's fine," Bokuto replied, the small smile still on his face, which was the after effects of a previously much larger one Akaashi experienced at the door. "I'm glad you asked to hang out again," Bokuto admitted as he walked into his living room, in brisk, short steps. "I didn't know if I was the kind of person you talk to. It was cool to see you at your gym, but I thought you didn't like me."  
  
Akaashi bit on the inside of his cheek, "Why would you think that?" He followed him after. He watched as the shoulders in front of him shrugged, "You just get the sort of feeling, I guess. I just felt you felt uncomfortable around me."  
  
_It wasn't untrue,_ he mused to himself, although he couldn't find it in his mind to the answer why. Maybe it was just the sort of tuition Tsukishima spoke of, how they just knew. How it was in Bokuto's nature to approach him with happy grins and compliments, and how it was in his own nature to tiredly dismiss him. The whole thing made the ground beneath him tremble, so he took a seat on a chair near an island in his.  
  
"You said you liked coffee, right? Black?" His back was still turned to him, and Akaashi could sense how hurriedly the other was in setting up the machine.  
  
"Yes, that's fine. Thank you," he replied, a little slower than how he would usually speak. He told himself it was because he was especially genuine in the words he spoke around the other.  
  
Bokuto turned to face him almost immediately after finishing, the hiss of the machine filling the silence before he spoke, "What's up?"  
  
"What do you mean? Specifically?"  
  
"No-" he hesitated, "I mean, yeah. Specifically. You look sort of bothered."  
  
"It's nothing," he spoke, "Just classes, typical things."  
  
Bokuto raised an eyebrow, "Akaashi?"  
  
"It's nothing," he repeated, and gave him a small smile. It was easier for him to fake them than it was for other, since he did it so rarely and he always seemed a bit tired anyways.  
  
"If you're sure, I mean..." he looked as if he wanted to say more, and this time Akaashi pushed him.  
  
"You mean?"  
  
"Nothing," he echoed back. "Oh!" His voice chirped, "Here's your coffee!"  
  
As Akaashi wrapped his fingers around the warm mug, one hand going through the handle, he murmured a small thanks. There was a silence upon them as Akaashi brought the mug up to his lips, ignoring the scorching heat of the liquid and the hot air brushing past his nose.  
  
Bokuto piped up, "Have you found your soulmate?"  
  
Akaashi almost lost grip of the mug, hastily setting it down and letting out small coughs. _This is it,_ he thought, _I shouldn't have come here._ "No, I haven't." He said softly, despite the stress in his eyebrows, and didn't bother asking him the question back. If he did, he knew, he wouldn't receive the answer he would want.  
  
"I have," Bokuto gave a small grin, and his hands began tugging at the hem of his shirt. "I've known him for a while, now. Like, more than a year. Maybe a year and a half - and I gained my color a few days before I actually talked to him. But, I wouldn't doubt if it was him because he lives a few doors down. It's possible to have seen him around before without me realizing it was him that made me see color, right? I just found out he had colors, too, a few weeks ago. By the way, I'm not sure if I mentioned, but you can probably tell that the color thing is my whole soul-sign thing," he gave a nervous laugh afterwards and covered his mouth, probably realizing he was rambling.  
  
Akaashi looked at his fingers wrapped around his drink, not making eye contact until after he was done. After finding the words to say, he turned to him, "And you...have the same color as he did?"  
  
He stared at Akaashi and his eyes widened before he hissed at himself, "Oh my _god_. I don't know. I know he had the color one but I never asked for his color? Oh my god, watch it be blue. He looks like he'd see blue all the time. Oh my god, _oh my god._ " He looked at Akaashi dead in the eye, a look of despair in his eyes, "What if it's not him?"  
  
Akaashi found himself narrowing his eyes at the counter before looking at him, "Well? It shouldn't be too big of a deal if you don't feel anything for him."  
  
"But I do," he whined.  
  
"Well, then, I suggest you go and ask him before you let yourself get any more attached." He almost spit out the words, and felt heat creep up the back of his neck when he realized this due to the surprised look on Bokuto's face. "Sorry." He apolgized quickly, "I guess I'm just a bit upset myself because I also have the color sign." He dug his fingernails lightly into his palms, hard enough to leave crescent shaped marks in his skin, but not enough to bleed. _He thinks I'm a romantic, now, or, I've harbored feelings myself._  
  
"Oh," he nodded understandingly. "What color do you see? Can you see anything in color, here?" Bokuto asked somewhat excitedly, eyes darting around the room.

"I can see in full color as well. I'm in the same situation as you."

Bokuto gave him a confused look, "Really? Well, what was your original color?"  
  
Akaashi locked his jaw, and he knew there was a frown on his face. Telling him wouldn't hurt their strict friendship, he reasoned, there's no way to prove anything with how he has no recollection of December 5th. "Purple," he almost didn't say the word. After a moment of silence Akaashi gathered up the nerves to look up at Bokuto, which he regreted. The other had a blank look in his eye, staring at him with a calm intensity.  
  
"Akaashi," he began, "Are you my soulmate?"  
  
"No." He answered before he finished the question, "I began seeing color around two months ago. You've been seeing color for more than a year. It's impossible. We just met recently."  
  
"But," his facial expression dropped dramatically, giving him a look that seemed desperate, his hand sliding halfway across the counter to almost meet his. Akaashi eyed it, and a pitiful expression came up on his face. He had no intention of looking into what Bokuto was implying.  
  
"My whole explanation with the other guy - what if the same thing happened, but between you and I?"  
  
He shook his head, "Impossible," he repeated, and saw the other's shoulders drop, his hand slightly receding. "Don't you think I've thought about this? Tsukishima told me about your color sign. I asked you what you did in early December - December 5th's my birthday. I gained it on my birthday, at a concert, and I have no idea by who. But you don't remember what you were doing, so that's it." He narrowed his eyes at him, and was given a look of shock, disappointment, and slight embarrassment combined.  
  
"I'm sorry, Akaashi," he furrowed his eyebrows and his golden eyes met his own, forest green ones. Although he had made it mildly uncomfortable for the both of them, he knew the majority of it happened because of what he chose to tell him. He had already knew of the consequences, but he spoke of everything that he had kept from him over the past month. He wasn't sure why he couldn't have just kept it in and avoided it, but he couldn't ignore how he had felt tense as Bokuto spoke of the other person he had met a few doors down. Listening to him had felt like was walking on thin glass, unknown when he would eventually fall.  
  
He couldn't find it in himself to give him another glare or blank look like he would usually do, so he settled for a small upturn of his lips.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sad bokuto is never the right choice but unfortunately in this case it was the best.


	4. february 21st - february 29th

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> bokuto's character is so bold and i'm in love

February 21st

Akaashi mumbled into his own hands, making it sound like a distant groan, but the three who witnessed him have known him for long enough to tell what he was saying behind the noises. “Akaashi? Messing up? Who would’ve seen it coming?” Kuroo murmured half-jokingly.

“Me,” Tsukishima spoke bluntly, writing notes into a new notebook.

Kuroo gave him glare, followed by another mumble before Akaashi looked up, his eyes still focused on his hands, however. “And how?”

“I told him to tell him on his own account – now, from the way he told the story, he did it too late and allowed himself to grow some feelings for Bokuto, and told him while he was under the influence.” Kuroo raised an eyebrow at this and he added, “Of jealousy.”

“Jealousy? I’m worried about his wellbeing now that I spoke of it at all.” Akaashi spoke in a monotone voice, his words flat and his eyes boring into his friend’s.

“You’re overthinking it,” Oikawa spoke up, “It’s not too big of a deal. Just let the idea sort of fade, Koutarou-chan will forget about it.”

“Unless he develops feelings for Akaashi,” Tsukishima hummed, flipping a page briskly and clicking his mechanical pencil twice.

“ _Unless he develops feelings_ ,” Kuroo mocked, “I don’t think so. Unfortunately, as loving as Bokuto is, he of all people believes in the romantic side of a having a soulmate the most. He’ll push away any feelings for whoever is his soulmate.”

“Hm,” the blonde considered, pulling a textbook out of his bag, “You could be right. He did get over a few guys over the year he gained his colors, didn’t he?”

Oikawa snorted, “Ushiwaka deserved it.”

“Ushijima doesn’t do anything,” Tsukishima rolled his eyes, “You’re just upset about your losing streak to him.”

“I’ve no idea what you’re talking about, nor do I know of this new breed of dog you speak of.”

“ _Anyways_ ,” Kuroo lightly kicked the two of them with one swing of his leg from the couch he was sitting on, “Akaashi, there’s no other answer to this, I don’t think. You just have to tell him flat out, that yes, you do believe you are soulmates, but no, you don’t want to be any more than friends.” He leaned back and put his feet up on the center table, arms crossed. “There’s no use in sitting and wondering what else there is to do.”

“I’d think you only told me about all of this out of your own amusement,” Akaashi narrowed his eyes at the blonde, who gave him a small smirk.

“While I do find it amusing, that isn’t why I told you.” He shook his head, “Stop blaming other people and get your act together, already.”

“I think I’ll just stick what with Oikawa-san suggested.” His eyes glanced at him, which in response, he grinned and stuck his tongue out.

“Why?” Kuroo questioned, his tone filled with curiosity instead of the expected offense Akaashi thought he’d express.

“It’s the cleanest way to go. No effort, no stress. I just continue on and let time pass,” he spoke in volume close to a mutter, and got up. “I’m going to be going, now. I know what I have to do.”

“Nothing?” Tsukishima clicked his tongue.

Akaashi ignored this and headed almost out of sight to them, telling them a brief goodbye.

“See ya,” Kuroo lifted his hand up.

Oikawa gave a wave of his fingers, “Bye, Keiji-chan!”

He nodded to them, and turned the corner, out of the living room’s view and into the hallway that’d lead out of the apartment. He put his shoes on and opened the door, before his hand subconsciously traveled to all of his pockets, finding nothing. He shut the door and headed back, stopping right before he was in their vision as Tsukishima spoke up.

“Why’d you have to suggest that, Oikawa-san?” he said in a tone that sounded more aggravated than a question. 

“It’s what I knew he’d be the most comfortable with,” he defended, and Akaashi heard him shift around on the couch.

Kuroo grunted, “Although it is the easiest route for him-“ he paused, and Akaashi blinked, his eyes darting to the kitchen across from him. “-I don’t think it’d be the best decision, in the end.”

“Hm? Why not?” he heard two, soft, consecutive clicking sounds, and he figured it was the sound of Oikawa setting his glasses on the table.

“Because Bokuto _likes_ Akaashi, Oikawa-san,” Tsukishima said a bit irritably, the scratching of the pencil writing getting slightly faster, but much more sharp and forceful.

Akaashi cocked an eyebrow at this, highly doubting it. _Did Bokuto ever tell Tsukishima about the other guy?_

Oikawa muttered something before whining, “I wouldn’t have known that! I haven’t seen Koutarou-chan since around Christmas during that practice match!”

“Well, now you know. And you know what’ll happen now?” Tsukishima murmured, and he shifted as well.

There was a pause, and Akaashi debated in leaving then. But, he wouldn’t be able to leave without them hearing the door again. He squeezed his eyes shut before opening them. He absolutely loathed what his life became over the past two months.

“Akaashi will delete his number, and ignore his texts,” Kuroo listed easily, “like he usually does. And Bokuto will whine and most likely cry, and inevitably come back to him again.”

He bit the inside of his cheek as he listened to this. He couldn’t deny it, himself, considering how many people he’s done that to - two exes, a cousin, his mother, three friends. Every once in a while it occurred to him how much of an asshole that made him, and for a few minutes he’d find himself trying to recover their numbers before finding the difficulty in actually doing it. Once he grew tired of trying to, that was usually when he tended to forget about the guilt as well.

“Akaashi-“ Oikawa paused again, “-is a closed off person, even though he tries.”

“He isn’t as bad as Kenma was, when I first met him, though.” There was a light bounce in Kuroo’s voice as he continued, “When I first met Kenma, in high school, he’d actually dash away whenever I just made eye contact. Akaashi usually enjoys hanging out with people, he just sort of regrets it most of the time afterwards since he overworks himself.”

Akaashi let his hand rest on the back of his neck. He didn’t work himself, did he? He didn’t think he did. He did admit that he hardly had enough time for his soul – for _Bokuto,_ \- but he had the perfect amount of time for his routine right now. He often found himself lying around in his sweats, sketching, or reading. He wasn’t overworked, as Kuroo had just said.

“He isn’t overworked.” Oikawa asked a bit confusedly, at this point his mind traveling the same trail of thoughts as Akaashi, “He’s busy, sure, but he seems to be the type of person who’d be bored if he wasn’t. Iwa-chan is like that.”

“You can be busy without wanting to pull out your hair at the anxiety of having to finish a simple homework assignment.” Tsukishima reasoned.

“That’s true, but I don’t think he’s overworked.” Oikawa repeated, “He’d be more clear about his concerns if he was. He usually is about most things.”

Kuroo zipped his jack up and down. Akaashi knew it was him because he was the only one wearing a jacket in the godforsaken stuffy apartment, the heater too strong for the amount of space between the walls. “You’ve known him for about two years, right?”

Oikawa hesitated, “About three.”

Kuroo hummed, “Yeah. Akaashi seems to be open. He’ll tell you about his family, and about his grades and his interests. He’ll tell you about things that seem interesting, but he won’t tell you about things that worry him, or about things he feels will be somewhat like a burden. He won’t tell you the other side of the story; about how he never speaks to his family, about how he had to finish weeks’ worth of extra credit to get the grades he has, or how he’s embarrassed to speak about volleyball because he gets too excited.”

Oikawa pursed his lips and spoke after a moment, “Keiji-chan is an admirable kid. I understand why Koutarou likes him.”

“He’s always been admirable,” Kuroo agreed. “But only a fraction of it is shown to the public. The majority of it is in the sides of all the stories he never speaks of.”

Akaashi furrowed his eyebrows and shook his head. He needed to leave. He walked to the door, and opened it before closing it, and then headed back to the living room.

“I forgot my phone,” he spoke lowly, “After getting down to the lobby, too.”

Tsukishima briefly glanced up at him, holding eye contact for a second before looking back down at the stack of papers that had grown since Akaashi ‘left.’ Akaashi lightly clenched a fist in worry as he retrieved his phone from table, knowing he didn’t believe him at all.

“Actually, Keiji-chan,” Oikawa hopped up from his seat on the couch, “Do you mind if I’d tag along with you, wherever you’re going to?” He began walking over to his shoes near the hallway as he put his glasses back on, his tongue sticking out all the while, leaning against the wall for balance.

Akaashi gave him a confused look. He had a hint of a feeling of Oikawa’s intentions, especially after hearing their exchange, but still wasn’t expecting the sudden enthusiasm. “Of course not, Oikawa- san.” He replied, and looked at Kuroo. “I’ll talk to you later.”

“Alright. See ya’. Again.” Kuroo gave him a smile and held up two fingers, heading to his kitchen as Oikawa finished slipping on his shoes.

“Lead the way,” Oikawa smiled happily, strolling out of the room in long strides behind Akaashi’s steady steps. “G’bye. Kei-chan!”

Tsukishima let out a small hum as a reply, still absorbed in his work as they headed out, the door shutting seconds afterwards.

 

 

Februrary 22nd

Akaashi trudged out of his room, his sweatpants too long for his legs, as lanky as he was, the ends of them dragging on the floor. He occasionally stepped on them and tripped over himself, and the rare instances in which he stepped in water made him especially frustrated; he wasn’t sure if getting his sweats or socks wet were worse.

He walked past his couch, fixing the blanket over his friend’s body before he made his way to his kitchen. He blinked at the digital clock on the wall, his eyes unfocused before he was finally able making out the time – 5:29. He grunted tiredly, yet his night was filled with falling to and from sleep every five minutes or so. He’d be lucky if he could sleep an hour straight before waking up.

“Keiji-chan.” He almost jumped at the sound of his name despite the soft way it was spoken. Oikawa’s voice had a way of giving you chills, even when it was entirely unintentional.

“Sorry, Oikawa-san. Did I wake you?”

The other put on his glasses and blinked a few times, fluffing his hair and replying, “No. I usually get up this early.”

Akaashi’s bit his lip, and felt his legs suddenly becoming heavier at the thought, despite him also being awake right then. “Sounds awful.”

Oikawa swung his long legs over the couch, adjusting his sweater, and replied, “Not as bad as not sleeping at all.”

Akaashi patted his hair down and leaned against his counter, eyes following his friend as he made his way to his cupboard, getting a glass out, “How’d you know?”

Oikawa hummed, and pulled the skin under his eye down with a finger, “Bags. They’re deep, and look pretty painful.”

“Not painful,” he murmured, “More annoying.”

Oikawa nodded, taking small sips of water as he eyed the shadows on the floor created from the blinds. The small strips of light had a yellow tone to them from the street lights out in front of the complex. “I should move in with you, hm, Keiji-chan?”

Akaashi merely nodded tiredly, only paying half attention as he went to sit on the couch. He continued, “Tetsu-chan is such a pain; he gives me acne.”

“Why don’t you live with Iwaizumi-san?”

“He rooms with his cousin. It wouldn’t be very much fun to be around my boyfriend with his cousin constantly there.” He sighed lightly, placing his empty glass by the sink.

Oikawa leaned his leaned over the counter, his cheek in his palm as he watched Akaashi lie down. “Go to sleep, Keiji-chan.” Oikawa chanted, “You need it. You’re going to die if you don’t.”

“I can’t, Oikawa-san.”

“Shut up,” he smiled happily, his words unfitting for the tone he voiced his thoughts in.

Akaashi breathed, resting his head in the pillow Oikawa previously rested on. “Oikawa-san,” he began, “Why are you here?”

Oikawa walked around the counter and sat on the opposite side of the couch, his legs barely touching Akaashi’s feet. “Because it started raining, and I didn’t want to walk home.”

Akaashi closed his eyes, and rephrased, “Tooru. Why are you here?”

Oikawa gave a soft, polite laugh. “Keiji. Book smart as usual.” He readjusted himself on the couch before shrugging, a faint look of amusement in his light eyes, “Not too sure, really. Just felt as though you needed the company.”

Akaashi tossed the idea in his mind for a moment before deciding on saying it. “Because I’m admirable?” 

Oikawa laughed loudly, his glasses shifting down his nose, and he pushed them up. He nudged Akaashi’s foot with his hand, “I knew it, you little brat.”

Akaashi didn’t reply, the energy to do so seeming to be completely drained at that point. His eyes were burning with every second they were open, but he felt frustrated and sick of keeping them closed. Oikawa stood up a second later, heading out of sight. Akaashi didn’t bother wondering where he was going. Although Oikawa was usually hiding things here and there, he found himself trusting him.  His secrets were never problematic to them, so he allowed his ways to be.

 Soft, muffled footsteps treaded across his carpet, Oikawa humming a song he didn’t recognize. He returned moments later, and Akaashi felt the couch weight dip, before Oikawa read aloud, “Physiology. Chapter 5.”

“Why?” he muttered.

“Because you hate physiology.” He said simply, “So I’m reading it out loud until you fall asleep.”

“Really, now?”

“It works with Iwa-chan and his math class.”

Akaashi sighed and rolled to his side, pushing his forehead to the couch. Oikawa began reading, pronouncing words smoothly, much to his surprise.

He lay awake for twenty minutes before his eyes shut for another seven hours.

 

 

February 28th

Akaashi wandered around the small area he was in. He went out walking on weekends, usually, when he felt like being indoors lost its comfort and instead held him hostage as tired and drowsy. There were certain parts of his city that weren’t as crowded as the town center, and he preferred walking near the outskirts where his city touched the edges of others. His steps were lighter than normal.

His hair was getting long – a little too long. He hadn’t gotten a haircut since before Thanksgiving. His wavy hair was getting to the point where it was bothersome, but even while he was out, he never found himself heading to a get it cut. It wasn’t as long as Asahi’s to tie up, but was fuller and thicker, like Oikawa’s. When he was studying he often used one of the thin cotton headbands that he recalled seeing the most on one of their high school coaches – was it Hinata’s? He attained his courtesy of Kuroo, who applauded him the first time he wore it. Oikawa told him it made his face look sharper than usual.

Although it wasn’t snowing, it still hadn’t gotten any warmer, not that he expected it to. The rain was getting there, but still, they only received light drizzles, the weight of the drops not heavy enough to make taps on his window or hold a beat of any kind. It still, however, dropped enough rain to create small puddles and damp cement.

His boots were looking close to new, and cleaning them was a pleasure to him – he hated the unevenness of his steps when he felt the mud beneath them. It generally grossed him out and pained him to step into his own home with them on.

As he walked, he found himself smiling at the vast amount of children he passed by with their parents. Children, he believed, were an exception to almost any mood swing of his.

His almost metallic looking, green eyes grazed the signs of different stores and services, and he had a small, guilty grin on his face whenever he walked past anything that offered haircuts. He ate lunch soon afterwards, and continued on his way. He began walking towards the center, growing somewhat bored of the slight vacancy he was met with every few minutes. It was unnerving. As he walked underneath the rooves of small shops, he stopped in his tracks.

“Akaashi?” his name was called out in a soft voice.

He recognized the voice immediately, and felt his shoulders slightly relax at the calmness of it. “Kenma-san,” he smiled at him once turning around, the younger one blinking and giving a slight tilt of his head. His wide, observing eyes stared at him.

“Your hair’s long,” he blurted, but even his rudest remarks came out gentle.

Akaashi nodded, “I haven’t gotten around to a trim. I don’t think I will in a while. I may wait for the semester to end.”

Kenma had a small grin appear on his face, “Longer hair feels better. It doesn’t feel so bare.”

He felt a small laugh vibrate in his chest, but it came out as more of a chuckle, “I finally know what you mean.”

Kenma looked pleased with the conversation and asked him, lacing his fingers together, “What are you doing here?”

He shrugged, “Walking. It’s a way to clear my head. And yourself?”

“I’m going shopping.” He admitted quietly. “My six year anniversary with Tetsurou is coming up in a few weeks.”

He gave an endearing smile at the shorter boy, “You have anything in mind, then?”

“A piano,” he replied.

“A piano,” he repeated, thinking. “He’s mentioned getting into an instrument. He likes the piano?”

Kenma nodded, smiling a bit, “He used to play when he was younger, but he stopped. I’m going to buy him an electric one, since it’d be a waste to move a grand one somewhere he doesn’t even own.”

“I had no idea,” he thought about it.

“Yeah,” he had a small, proud look on his face. Akaashi only ever saw it when Kuroo was around, or when he bought a new game. His golden eyes met his, “I’m going to be on my way, now. I’ll see you around, Akaashi.”

“Alright, see you.” He nodded to him, and began walking, but Kenma began again.

“By the way…I also ran into Tsukishima and Bokuto earlier, at a café about,” he pondered, “a ten-minute walk from here. I think they’re just jogging around. I thought I’d just tell you,” he added.

He felt his shoulders tense a little at the name, one he had the pleasure of not thinking about for at least a few days. He nodded slowly, “Thank you, Kenma-san. I appreciate it.”

“No problem,” he blinked, and gave a small wave, before continuing on his way.

Akaashi knew he had a distasteful look on his face as he watched his friend’s figure eventually disappear. He hoped for the best, to not run into either of them. He knew all too well, though, of Tsukishima and the exact way he thought of things. He decided it was more than likely they were around his area on purpose, at least to Tsukishima. Bokuto probably thought nothing of it. He most likely thought of him, possibly as anxious as himself at the moment, but was doubtlessly oblivious to how Tsukishima planned everything.

Akaashi checked his watch, and saw it was just after three. He should go home, he told himself, if he wanted to avoid them so desperately. He managed to accomplish the simple task of walking the same route he took backwards, memorizing every street after having walked around so often for the past two years. He felt a sinking feeling in his stomach when he realized he was only another five minutes from his house. His eyes darted around, and he almost stopped in his tracks after having caught himself _looking for them._

He reached his apartment, and didn’t encounter them.

 

 

February 29th

It was a leap year and he rolled his eyes at the day. It was a Sunday, on that extra added 24 hours to the year, and all that actually meant to Akaashi was that there was another Monday he’d have to endure. Akaashi loathed Mondays, just as everyone did – more specifically, that was when he was booked for the whole day. Four classes, (two of them being for the same subject, but with two different sessions) his job, and most likely a mentally crippling three to five hours of sleep. The thought of having to face the next day was enough to keep him up, tossing in his bed. The rest of his week, he had a maximum of two classes.

On Mondays, he tended to borrow Kuroo’s car. Kuroo’s Monday schedule consisted of activities vastly different from his own – nothing. While his weekend was the typical Saturday and Sunday, Kuroo’s was Monday and Tuesday. Fortunately, with his friend doing nothing except for probably having Kenma over, he was given the opportunity to use his car. He feared the day he wouldn’t be able to and would have to walk to his university with three textbooks and even more notebooks.

But he’d worry about that tomorrow, or, that night at least.

He had done his groceries earlier than usual, and didn’t have to work that day, so by one in the afternoon he had a full day of nothingness. He considered going walking, again, but decided not to after slipping one shoe on, remembering what could have happened yesterday.  He didn’t have any books to finish, he didn’t have any piece he wanted to finish drawing. So, in the emptiness of his apartment, he found himself wanting to leave.

As he put on his shoes, he crossed off friends who he knew were busy. Kuroo was working today, and Noya was visiting Asahi’s parents. Oikawa or Tsukishima, then.

He picked up his phone and called the former, who answered quickly and happily, “Keiji-chan!”

“Oikawa-san. Are you busy, today?”

“Hm? No, not busy. I’m at the mall right now.”

“Could I meet you over there?” he grabbed a sweater and put it over the shirt he was wearing.

“Oh. Uh, wait a second, please!” He raised an eyebrow and listened to Oikawa call something out distantly, before returning a few seconds later. “You can come, yeah, but Kei-chan and Koutarou are here with me.” He had to think for a moment about who Koutarou was before figuring it was Bokuto, for it was the only explanation in why Oikawa would feel obligated to tell him.

He hesitated, and it didn’t pass by Oikawa, who briskly spoke up, “It should be okay, to come, Keiji-chan. Nothing solid even happened between you. Just an odd suggestion, is all. And we’re here, too.”

“Yeah,” he murmured, and headed to grab his wallet on the kitchen counter. “I need to get over it. I’m over thinking, I guess. Like you said.”

“Okay, I’m glad.” He let out a dramatic, relieved sigh. “We’ll be waiting, then! You can meet us at the food court.”

“Alright,” he replied, opening his door and walking out, slipping his key into the lock and turning it until he heard the sharp click of a lock. “See you.”

Living in the center of the city had definite perks, one being the close proximity to almost anything useful. He was one of the few people who said he could walk to a mall.

He wasn’t sure what he was doing, but decided to not overthink it, anyways. Overthinking was what put Bokuto up on this pedestal in his mind in the first place, acting like he had to tiptoe over glass to spare his feelings when he had learned how stubborn Bokuto actually was. The situation is the best, he reasoned as well, as he pressed a button at a crosswalk. It’s with friends. All he needed to do was treat him the same way, and there shouldn’t be misunderstandings at all.

After precisely over thinking everything, he inwardly groaned, but was visibly more relaxed as he lay out how simple everything actually was. He didn’t worry about it, anymore.

When he arrived, he easily spotted them, letting out a small grin at how Oikawa remained standing, seeing as many people approached him due to his physical charm.

“Woah! Akaashi!” Bokuto waved first, eyes lighting up and almost standing up from his seat.

Oikawa smiled at him, and Tsukishima blinked up at him. He figured Oikawa hadn’t told them he was coming.

“Akaashi!” Bokuto repeated when he approached them, taking off his scarf and balling it up, putting it in his lap. “Hey! Do you think you could toss for me sometime? I have this new strategy I wanted to try out, but Tsukki’s terrible at it.”

“Sure,” he answered after a moment, his shoulder relaxing at the way Bokuto spoke. He had been stressing over nothing, it seemed.

He gave a happy cheer, smacking Tsukishima’s back repeatedly, “He’s finally going to toss to me! I’ll be able to spike so well you won’t have a chance.

Tsukishima rolled his eyes, “Of course.”

“Hey, Koutarou-chan.” Oikawa frowned, “Why didn’t you ask me?”

Bokuto blinked, not having an answer. “Dunno. Just never considered it, I guess. You could toss for me, too.”

“That’d be a little, redundant, don’t you think?” Akaashi questioned quickly, not looking at any of them.

When he looked up he realized the slight edge to his tone, especially with the way a small, almost nonexistent smirk grew on Tsukishima’s face.

Oikawa spoke up after a moment, saving Akaashi from possible embarrassment. “I suppose you’re right, Keiji-chan.”

“Keiji?” Bokuto blinked at Oikawa, then turned to him, “That’s your name?” Akaashi nodded, and payed attention to his reaction. He gave a small grin, “It’s nice.”

“Thank you,” he murmured and Bokuto’s grin widened, and he gave him one last glance before turning to Tsukishima and asking him where he wanted to go next. Akaashi narrowed his eyes at Bokuto. He hadn’t missed that, the way he looked at him right then. It was the sort of grin that wasn’t the innocent one he grew used to – it was one that fit on Oikawa, or even Kageyama, occasionally. A smirk, more of, one that drew his lips out instead of up, and one that made his eyes peer at him, as if he knew something he didn’t.

Akaashi had felt as though the tables seem to have turned on him, although he didn’t know how.

As they continued through the day, Akaashi found himself gravitating towards Oikawa. Tsukishima felt like a sort of unstable ground to him, like he’d find a way to turn the situation into a scene from the sitcom. He didn’t speak as much as he usually did, his politeness and manners seeming to have faded with the idea of who he thought Bokuto was.

It was incorrect to say Bokuto was a liar, because he wasn’t. He was still optimistic and encouraging, and had happily suggested that he should buy a shirt that he had caught Akaashi staring at through a window. However, he felt as though he was meeting another side of him, somewhat related to who he had witnessed the few times they talked alone.

He saw himself, in a way, reflecting off of Bokuto’s personality that day. The way he was able to keep conversations flowing by asking simple question, general ones that could lead to even more basic topics. He had believed that that sort of personality was just who Bokuto was, but he soon realized he was very similar to himself, using the overly excited attitude just as a way to seem polite.

He was able to witness how he acted when he was alone, most likely because of the fact he was with people he was comfortable with. He wasn’t unnecessarily loud; he wasn’t all smiles with his happiness bubbling over the edge. Although he was still genuinely optimistic and cheerful, he had a subtler way of showing it.

He walked around with an intimidating confidence, with smirks and teases, Akaashi noticed, instead of the welcoming wild eyes and cries of joy. Akaashi imagined this was what it was like when he was on the court, and could see him as a top five spiker.

Towards the end of the day, Akaashi was the first to say he was leaving. The mall was going to close in about an hour. As he fixed himself, tugging at his jacket and wrapping his scarf back around, Bokuto asked if he could come along. He didn’t want to ride the long trip back to his place, and Tsukshima was going somewhere afterwards with Yamaguchi.

Akaashi hesitated, and gave Oikawa a glance, the eldest of them giving the slightest nod, his eyes shining through his glasses. He scowled inwardly, but figured that it couldn’t get any worse. He wasn’t too certain he’d be able to reject him at all, with the way Bokuto stared at him as he waited, his eyes almost narrowed as if he was challenging him to say no.

He lost to the man with the intimidating confidence, with smirks and teases, and replied with a simple nod of his head before walking away, Bokuto striding after him.

…

“It feels more comfortable now that this is my second time being here,” Bokuto stated, taking his slippers off.

Akaashi didn’t reply as he did the same, taking a slightly longer time since he was wearing boots. He didn’t know what Bokuto planned on doing, or saying. He could’ve easily stayed over at Oikawa and Kuroo’s place.

“Akaashi.” He started, as Akaashi started on his other foot, “I don’t want to make it weird between us, like I did before. I mean… I think I did, right?”

Akaashi almost stopped moving, for second, his movements becoming rigid, his fingers slightly twitching as he placed his boots on the floor. He began walking to his living room and replied, “You aren’t, Bokuto-san. You’re fine.”

“I-“ Bokuto started again, “Ok. Ok.” He muttered, before raising his voice, “And, why the -san? I told you it’s fine without.”

“Well, it’s just a sign of respect.” He answered, frowning as took a seat on the couch. He always seemed to bring it up.

“I’m your friend.” Was his reasoning, as he marched and sat next to him, their thighs almost touching. _Out of all the room,_ Akaashi looked down at his lap.

“I can’t respect my friends?”

“If you want to respect me you’d call me what I was comfortable with.” He replied, turning his head to look at him.

“You’re too close,” he said under his breath, proving the point as Bokuto was still able to hear it.

“Sorry,” he almost whispered, shifting himself a little bit farther. “Bokuto.” He said his own name and looked at Akaashi expectantly.

Akaashi finally looked up at him, meeting his eyes at a distance he was more at ease with.

“Bokuto.” He repeated, finally.

He received a grin. “Keiji.”

Akaashi almost snorted, “Getting ahead of yourself, Bokuto.”

The man cheered, “Hey, hey, hey! That sounds great!”

Akaashi shook his head, pursing his lips to stop a smile from forming. Bokuto dismissed the progress just made, jumping right back closer to him, “Smile! I can see you’re about to do it! C’mon!” he nudged his shoulder with his own, tapping his hands on his lap. “Akaashi,” he droned on when he didn’t budge.

“No,” he barely was able to let the word out, before a grin broke out on his lips after he released his purse. He turned his head the other way, refusing to look at him as he let out small laughs, his shoulders shaking and brushing against Bokuto’s.

His laughter died, the hint of a smile still on his lips, but reflecting through his eyes when he turned his head back to look at the other. He almost snorted again when he saw Bokuto leaning over his own lap in an attempt to look at his face while he was turned away.

Bokuto’s large eyes blinked before almost squeezing shut, grinning, “You have dimples, Akaashi?”

He didn’t reply, but instead rolled his lips inside his mouth, the action going against him as the stress of his muscles in his cheeks made the mentioned indents appear again.

“You do,” Bokuto squeaked, “I would have never known!” he tilted his head, inspecting the shallow mark in his cheeks as Akaashi looked straight ahead, refusing to look at him.

After a moment, Akaashi noticed Bokuto hadn’t moved from his seat, his hand almost on his thigh. He could practically feel the other’s pulse from the blood rushing through his body, that was, once again, too close.

He closed his eyes and heard his voice ask lowly, “Why don’t you ever look at me?”

Akaashi almost opened his eyes at this, but didn’t, and replied, “I don’t make eye contact too much. It’s just…” he swallowed, “It’s intense, sometimes. With certain people.

“Do I make you tense?” Bokuto questioned, his voice barely above a whisper. Akaashi could almost feel his breath against the tip of his ear.

“No,” he answered.

“Then look at me.”

“No,” he repeated. “You’re too close.”

After a moment of silence, he murmured, “No. You’re too far.”

He opened his eyes at this, and felt a pressure against his left cheek as Bokuto gave him a soft kiss, his hand pressing against his right one to bring him closer, before pulling away all together.

Akaashi looked at him right afterwards, his chest feeling tight. He almost felt like he couldn’t breathe, and his eyes widened a fraction when he saw Bokuto sitting a good bit away, tilting his head with a small smirk on his face.

“Was I too close, Akaashi?” he asked.

“No,” he only mouthed the words.

Bokuto grinned. “It’s the last day of winter, today. Could we start over, again, in the spring?”

Akaashi’s breath was still uneven, and he was surprised he couldn’t hear himself heaving in the silence. “As friends,” he said quietly.

Bokuto’s shoulders fell a bit, but he hummed, reaching out and dragging the tips of his fingers through Akaashi’s wavy hair, pushing strands behind his ear.

“As best friends,” he rephrased, softly.

Akaashi closed his eyes, knowing what he meant.

“As soulmates.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sad attempt at fluff : a story by me
> 
> say hi to me on tumblr at enchantobio!


	5. spring

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> you guys i'm on a roll
> 
> all of your comments are so cute and they make me so happy to read them!! thank you all so much for the support!
> 
> also this chapter is 103% fluff actually that's all this is.

S P R I N G

He enjoyed the season. It was warmer and bright, but still had peaceful showers. He loved it almost as much as winter – he still preferred the snow a little bit more.

He was fond of the weather, and considered it the beginning of a new cycle, despite many thinking of that time as fall, instead. The only thing he seemed to dread was how he never knew if it was going to rain or shine. 

He woke up that spring by a soft kiss on his cheek.

 

March 1st

“Akaashi.” His name was murmured, and a few seconds later he found it in himself to open his eyes in response.

“What time is it?” he asked, his voice raspy.

Bokuto gave a fond smile and replied, “Almost ten.”

He woke up once he heard the words. He sat up, and almost hit Bokuto as he swung his legs over to the floor before rushing to the bathroom. He ignored the confusion on the other’s face.

“Akaashi?” he questioned, poking his head into the bathroom while he began brushing his teeth, quickly turning the sink on. He didn’t reply, and finished brushing and rinsing before wiping his mouth with a towel.

“I missed a class.” He replied, brushing past him, “My next one starts at 10:30.”

He walked into his bedroom and began changing his clothes. Bokuto walked in, his eyes going past his body and straight to his eyes, “I thought you said one of your classes got canceled today? Which one was it?”

He paused, his hands still gripping the waist of his jeans after tugging them on. He groaned, “That’s right.” Bokuto laughed, and sat on his bed as he watched Akaashi’s reaction. He walked over and sat next to him, “Suppose I have another two hours or so to spare, then.”

“We can go eat breakfast,” Bokuto cheered, falling back on the bed. “Put on a shirt, though. Wouldn’t want everyone staring at you.”

Akaashi cocked an eyebrow, “Obviously.” He jerked a little when he felt the other’s fingers tracing his own.

“Akaashi,” Bokuto frowned, blindly looking for his hand.

“Friends,” he emphasized.

Bokuto sighed, “Alright. Fine. But I don’t see the difference in you spending time with me, and you kissing me. You’re still spending time with me.” He felt his face heat up, but he knew his body well enough to know that his cheeks almost never gained the red discoloration. His friends had never mentioned him ‘blushing,’ as well.

“That’s enough.” Akaashi tried. He heard a shifting behind him, and turned his head to see Bokuto grinning at him.

“Alright, then. Let’s go, yeah?”

They ate a restaurant a short walk away, and Akaashi felt himself enjoying the way Bokuto seemed to frequently glance at him, as selfish as it sounded. He found himself smiling a little more naturally whenever Bokuto tried to make a joke or would simply act the way he did.

He wasn’t sure if it was alright for him, though.

“Akaashi,” Bokuto piped up as they waited for their food to arrive, “What’s your favorite color?”

He didn’t question the simplicity of it, and replied, “Blue, I think. Or red.”

“Mine’s purple.” He said.

“Violet?” he winced. “I’d think that you would grow old of it.”

“Not at all!” he shook his head, before thinking about it, “I was born with it. You were, too. It’s the only thing that’s ever been there, all the time. Besides, it reminds me of you now.”

He gave a small laugh, and tried to look anywhere but his eyes, “Thank you, Bokuto.”

When he did look up, however, after he didn’t reply back, Bokuto squeaked, and patted both his cheeks with his hands, muttering, “I’m sorry…’m sorry…I like you too much.”

“It’s…” his voice tapered off, “It’s alright. Really.”

Bokuto gave him an embarrassed smile.

 

 

March 5th

Akaashi woke up that morning – as in, he had managed to fall asleep – and was blessed with the opportunity of going back to sleep as he found an email from his physiology professor stating class would be canceled today, and the following Monday, as well. He felt a relaxing sensation course through his body, the tips of his fingers to the bones of his feet at ease.

He managed to sleep another two hours, and woke up with the most energy he had remembered in a while. As he gazed at the time on his phone, he smiled a bit, seeing that he had gotten nine hours of sleep. After spending a majority of the day relaxing and reading, he decided to call Kuroo around six, asking if he was busy.

“Bro-“ he began, excitement bubbling in his voice, “Guess what? Iwaizumi brought over a shitload of leftover food from his parent’s restaurant. _It’s insane_. Get over here.”

“Leftovers,” he repeated, “Appetizing.”

“Oh, god, Akaashi, no.” he imagined the bedhead bouncing as his friend shook his head, “As in food that was cooked but was never given out. Not _leftovers,_ leftovers.”

“Ah,” he nodded, turning the corner into his room to put a different shirt on.

“Alright, alright. See ya’ in a few.”

“Yeah,” he hung up.

Fifteen minutes later he was in the elevator, heading up to the seventh floor. “Yo!” his friend greeted at the door, his hand waving in quick circular motions as a sign to hurry.

He slipped his shoes off and told him, “’m not feeling too hungry right now, actually, Kuroo.”

“What?” he exclaimed, before rubbing his friend’s back, “That’s right. You eat like a bird. Poor, poor, Akaashi. Can only eat one serving.”

“Typically one person eats one serving. That’s why servings exist.”

“Perhaps,” Kuroo shrugged, “But there’ll be a lot of food even later, don’t sweat it.”

“Keiji-chan!” Oikawa greeted, waving him over from his seat at the small kitchen table. Iwaizumi smiled at him, as well. Oikawa laced his fingers around his wrist, pulling him down to take a seat as well. “I heard from Kei-chan who heard from Koutarou, that you guys are becoming closer, hm?”

“Bokuto?” Iwaizumi blinked, “And you?”

“Sort of.”

“ _Sort of!_ ” Oikawa grinned, and shook Iwaizumi’s shoulders, “That’s what I said when I asked you if you liked me, Hajime!”

“It’s still the same answer to this day,” he muttered, but grinned nonetheless when Oikawa squeezed his hand.

Oikawa changed the subject, “You know, Keiji-chan, in high school I sort of hated you.”

“I know you did, Oikawa-san.” He nodded.

“You did?” he blinked, his glasses almost falling off his voice as he rocked forwards, leaning towards him. He recovered seconds later, a smirk growing, “Sure you did.”

“He did,” Iwaizumi piped up, “I told him.”

“Iwa-chan!” he cried.

“It was obvious, anyways. I was probably competition to you.” Akaashi added.

He shrugged, “Probably. I hardly ever have a reason for disliking certain people,” his eye twitched, “Unlike that Tobio.”

“You don’t dislike him anymore, now, do you?” Akaashi raised an eyebrow.

“No, no. I got over it in his first year of high school.” He waved off. “Hey!” he suddenly chirped, “You should take Koutarou to the astronomy museum.”

Akaashi didn’t hide the stress he put on his eyebrows at the thought, “Bokuto wouldn’t like that. If it was about animals or something, maybe. He doesn’t seem the type to be interested in space as you are.”

Oikawa frowned, “You think so?”

“Aliens are a thing reserved to you, Tooru.” Iwaizumi chimed.

He let out a soft noise in embarrassment, before muttering, “They’re real.” He blinked a little bit and adjusted his glasses before continuing, “Alright, then. I guess _I’ll_ just have to go with you to the best museum around. Shame.” The corners of his lips twitched upward in concealed excitement.

“Sure, sure.” He nodded, a little bit preoccupied by the sound of Kuroo’s voice welcoming someone at the door.

“Brace yourself, Keiji-chan,” Oikawa grinned, standing up and heading to a different area of the apartment. Iwaizumi followed, his fingers laced with his.

“Ohoho!” Kuroo grinned, almost like a greeting, and Akaashi’s lips began to form an almost invisible smile.

He wasn’t sure how Bokuto would act around him, if he was the type of person to show his affection in public. He wasn’t sure if Bokuto would show any at all, anymore. It depended on whether he remembered the loose demand Akaashi had stated, but didn’t do as well of a job keeping up. He found himself going against his own words whenever Bokuto touched him, whether it was his hand or on his thigh, or his fingers threading through his hair. His heartbeat was louder than his voice.

Bokuto marched in happily, greeting Hinata who excitedly wrapped his arms around the elder, the volumes of their voices matching each other before Bokuto messed up his hair, and proceeded to the kitchen.

Akaashi watched him, an amused look showing through his eyes despite the rest of his face showing no interest. He had walked right past him and straight to the food, piling everything on a paper plate he was waiting to see collapse on itself. When he finally noticed him from the side of his eye, he did a quick double take before screeching in a hushed voice, “Akaashi!”

“Bokuto,” he replied back, a small smile finally making its way onto his face.

“Akaashi, Akaashi!” he said his name again excitedly, sitting down next to him at the table. Akaashi almost grinned at the fact that he put his legs up on the last chair in order to have it to themselves. “I haven’t seen you since Monday,” he said, his voice sounding as though he was in awe, “I missed you a lot!”

“I missed you, too.” He echoed back before he could convinced himself not to. He was glad he had, however. The smile on his face was worth it.

Bokuto kept the smile on his face, before saying under his breath a few seconds later, “I’m not hungry, anymore.”

“Why not?” Akaashi mused, slightly tilting his head.

 Bokuto shrugged, “I’ll eat it later.”

Akaashi gave him a look that showed he didn’t believe it, but said nothing.

“Really!”

“Sure, Bokuto-san.”

“Bokuto- _san?!_ ”

“Bokuto,” he corrected himself.

The other let out a sigh of relief, “Alright. Good. I thought we were going backwards a little.”

The statement made Akaashi mildly uncomfortable, heavily suggesting that they had moved forwards in order for Bokuto to say they were about to move backwards. He lightly clenched his jaw, his eyes falling to the group of people in the living room. Hinata was drunk, being the low-tolerance one of the group, despite it just reaching seven o’clock. He looked on the verge of passing out.

“He got drunk off of one shot!” Kuroo cackled, pounding his hand on Kageyama’s back, who glared at his boyfriend on the floor. Oikawa took a picture with him, sticking his tongue out while Hinata gave a lazy grin.

He wasn’t necessarily interested in the scene in front of him, seeing as he witnessed the same thing with a variation of setting at least once a month; he just wanted an excuse to not meet Bokuto’s eyes.

“Tsukki’s drunk, too!” Bokuto grinned, his body slightly twisted as he turned back to them. He called out, “Look at him!”

Kageyama blinked, “He doesn’t look drunk.”

Kuroo snickered, “Yeah, he doesn’t. Wait for him to get up from that seat on the couch, though. One step and he’ll fall straight onto his ass.” Bokuto burst out laughing, his head thrown back.

“I hate all of you,” Kuroo grinned, “Making a mess in my apartment.”

“Please,” Oikawa scoffed, leaning against Hinata’s almost unconscious body on the floor, “We both know you’re going to wait for me to clean everything up.”

“I’m terrible at cleaning,” Kuroo whined, walking to his kitchen past the two of them. He pulled a water bottle out of his fridge, and momentarily turned to them, “Lovebirds,” he greeted, covering his mouth with his hand as he acted like he spilled a secret.

Akaashi inwardly groaned, but all Bokuto replied with was, “Hey, Akaashi, could we be owls?”

 

 

March 8th

A week passed since Bokuto placed a kiss on his cheek and made him reconsider the way he always seemed to reject him. He wouldn’t go as far as to say his emotions developed too much. He grew a little bit more flustered, a little bit more nervous, whenever they spoke, even if it was over the phone or through texts. But, he knew that when developing a crush on someone, the first few weeks or so always seemed to be the most exhilarating. He needed to see if it was long lasting, if he was capable of keeping a relationship with him.

A minute later Akaashi choked on his cereal after realizing what he had just thought about.

 

 

March 12th

“Ok, ok.” Bokuto’s smile appeared, “On a scale of one to ten, how cool do you think this looks?”

They were in Akaashi’s room, and Bokuto had stumbled upon his cabinet full of shunned art.

“Three,” he spoke.

“No,” he gasped, and pulled the whole piece out of a drawer. He had been experimenting with watercolors ever since he was able to differentiate colors, instead of his typical medium of charcoal or pen, or pencil. He still found himself being fooled by shading and how colors vastly different from each other could serve as tones or shades.

“I like deer almost as much as owls,” Bokuto informed him, sitting on his bed as his eyes scanned the picture.

Although he knew Bokuto wasn’t the type to draw judgement of any sort, he still felt a little embarrassed when he walked in on him looking through all of his old work. He had to refrain from slamming the doors shut on his fingers.

“Can I keep this, Akaashi?” Bokuto looked up at him.

He winced, “I hate that piece. But if you like it, it’s yours.”

He cheered, and stood up, rummaging through another cabinet of his. He turned back around with a pen, and handed it to Akaashi, “Sign your name.”

He shook his head amusedly, but did so anyways.

“Could you write on the back, _for my soulmate, Bokuto!_?”

“No,” he replied, but flipped it over and wrote the letters out anyways, his writing similar to cursive with looped letters and soft lines.

Bokuto laughed behind him.

 

 

March 14th

“Sunday sundaes!” he grinned, bursting through his front door with three plastic bags.

“Ice cream?” Akaashi questioned, closing the door.

“Yeah,” he smiled, and began unpacking the items onto Akaashi’s kitchen counter. “I bought one of each from the ice cream topping section!”

“Isn’t that a bit much?” he wondered aloud, walking up next to him and eyeing everything.

“I hardly ever eat out,” Bokuto replied, “So I usually have enough extra money to do this every once in a while. I used to do it with Tsukki, but he got tired of it. Sometimes I do it with Noya, but now I can do it with you,” he explained happily, balling up the empty plastic and tossing it into a trash bin. “What do you like?”

“Well, for one, strawberry ice cream,” he said halfheartedly, staring at the gallon of vanilla.

“Vanilla’s classic!” Bokuto defended. “But I bought actual strawberries, too,” he patted the plastic carton they were in.

“And kiwis,” he continued, “Blueberries and nuts and bananas.” He pulled out a chopping board, and washed the mentioned fruits.

“Oh, geez,” Bokuto smirked, “You’re a healthy eater.” He watched Akaashi chop them up and place them in a bowl.

“Healthy,” he repeated, grabbing chocolate syrup and almost drowning the ice cream in it.

Bokuto laughed, “There we go!”

 

 

March 17th

He tensed his shoulders as he felt arms wrap around them, followed by a head resting in between his shoulder blades.

“What are you studying?”

“Anatomy.”

He hummed, and kissed the back of Akaashi’s neck. He smiled freely at this, knowing he wouldn’t be able to see it.

“Bokuto.” He spoke for no specific reason.

“Akaashi.” He said back.

“…Why do you come here so often? Isn’t it tiring?”

“No,” he replied, and seconds later lifted his head, “Do you want me to leave?”

“No,” he shot back quicker than he expected, and felt his skin heat up when he heard Bokuto chuckle, before resting his head again. His fingers traced patterns on his back.

“Alright.”

 

 

March 19th

“Could you come over, soon?” Bokuto asked him at his doorway, only wearing a thin cardigan instead of a jacket, the weather lifting.

“I don’t know,” Akaashi muttered, “I have two tests this upcoming week I need to study for.”

Bokuto sighed, “Yeah, me too.”

Akaashi gave him an apologetic look, “I’ll see you soon, though, if it’s not this week.”

Bokuto met his eyes, and a small smile grew. “Yeah.”

 

 

March 21st

_Could you come over?_

Akaashi read the message over again seven times, chewing his granola bar slowly as he walked back from the gym. It was just past eight, and he was close to dying. He didn’t know what had happened the previous night – he had been sleeping incredibly well the past two weeks, with the least amount of sleep he got being six hours. That night, however, he felt as though he was in a cold sweat, but had no other signs of sickness. His eyes seemed to be tricking him as well; everything seemed darker.

_I’m sorry, I’m a little tired right now. You live pretty far away, too._

He placed his phone on his bedside table as he finally rested on his bed, after changing into a comfortable pair of sweatpants and sweater.

He managed to fall asleep from exhaustion.

However, just as fast as he fell asleep, he jolted awake at the motion of the weight of his bed sinking. He almost felt like screaming, but his voice was caught in his throat. He managed to spare a second to glance at the clock – almost eleven.

He struggled to reach out for his lamp, yanking the small chain in order to illuminate the room.

His chest heaved in relief as he fell back onto his pillow, recognizing the hair of the man who laid face down next to him. He took another breath and sat up.

“Bokuto,” he sighed, “What are you doing here?”

No reply.

“Bokuto.”

A groan.

“Bokuto, I have to go to class tomorrow. You’ll be alone.”

_Don’t go_ , he muttered into the sheets.

“I have to.”

“You don’t,” he cried out, turning his head to look at him, his left cheek pressed to the soft sheets, “You said your lectures are things you can read in your textbooks, anyways.”

He ran his hand through his hair, “I don’t know.”

“Akaashi,” he said quietly. The way he spoke his name didn’t feel like a whine or a complaint; it was almost like a beg.

“Alright,” he sighed, leaning over to turn the light back off, “I’m going to sleep, now, anyways.”

“’s fine.” He murmured, shifting further up on the bed, “I’m tired, too. I feel bad.”

Akaashi squeezed his eyes shut. Although he wasn’t entirely welcoming to Bokuto sleeping with him, he found himself not doing anything about it.

After a few minutes his body tensed, feeling his nose nuzzle into his neck, his hand on his chest.

“Is this alright?” his voice lower than a whisper.

He rest his head on Bokuto’s.

“Yeah.”

 

 

March 22nd

Akaashi woke up first.

His head had rolled to his other shoulder, and he tried not to overthink as he moved it back to press his cheek against the other’s forehead.

His hair was down, he noticed. He ran his fingers through it, noticing the way the different levels of black and silver almost seemed to mix with each other. His lips met his forehead, and he gave him a small kiss, pulling away, embarrassed, even though he was fast asleep.

_Maybe I should stop…_

He wondered if it was possible for Bokuto to wake up to his thundering pulse.

His eyes raked over his room, a soft light making the room glow. It didn’t glow as much as he remembered it did yesterday morning, however. He almost wanted to wake Bokuto up as a thought raced through his mind, but his voice caught in his throat.

All of his colors almost seemed _faded_.

He shut his eyes, noticing Bokuto’s chest almost hammering, his breathing slightly quicker than one’s should be in their sleep.

_Was he sick?_

He opened his eyes, and watched his face – calm, yet there was a stress in between his eyebrows.

He let out a breathy laugh, and said to himself aloud, “You really are my soulmate.”

He kissed his forehead again, his face visibly relaxing.

_Maybe I should stop worrying._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> just a friendly suggestion ft. akaashi's ever growing doubt
> 
> drunktsukki2k16 + too many small kisses


	6. march 22nd - april 17th

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, I finally figured out and planned every single chapter until the end, which makes it a lot easier to write. It'll be 20 chapters, so we've still got a long way to go, haha. ps here's a heads up. things will go by really quickly, in the sense of briefness and sudden changes and all, because the story will take place over the course of 4 years. I originally planned on it being one whole year, but i feel like it's more believable and that the character's feelings aren't as rushed if that much time explains everything.  
> okok enough babbling. thank you guys for your comments and kudos and support!!

March 22nd

Akaashi woke up again, almost two hours later, to the soft touch of fingers tracing his cheekbone. “Akaashi,” Bokuto sighed once seeing he was awake, “I feel like shit.”

“I bet you do,” Akaashi mumbled, rolling over to the other’s dismay.

“Akaashi,” he whined, his body getting pushed further, “Stop moving around.”

“I’ll do whatever I want,” he murmured against a pillow, “This is my day off.”

“Akaashi,” he whined again, plopping his head against his shoulder.

He sighed, and turned onto his back again before sitting up. He flattened his hair and looked at the other, “How do you feel?”

“Like shit,” he repeated, spreading his arms across the bed, over his lap.

“You’re going to have to be more specific, Bokuto.”

“My stomach feels queasy.”

He snorted, and patted the other’s hair down, his eyes closing in response.

“Did you eat anything bad?” he asked.

“All I ate yesterday was ice cream.”

“Well,” he sighed, “Doesn’t that seem convenient?”

“It wasn’t the ice cream,” Bokuto insisted, “I mean… it was. I’m lactose intolerant.”

Akaashi glared at him, tapping his forehead, “You eat ice cream every day.”

“Well, I do,” Bokuto admitted, “But I get ones with no dairy. Don’t you taste the difference?” Akaashi stayed silent, and Bokuto grinned, “I mean, underneath that gallon of chocolate syrup you probably can’t, huh?”

Akaashi shook his head, “Anyways. So I’m assuming you didn’t get non dairy ones this time?”

He gave an embarrassed smile, “Uh, yeah…I sold the whole store out the day before, and all they had was regular ones.”

“So what made you inclined to buy them?”

“I had to!”

Akaashi gazed at him, his eyes boring into his intently until the other let out another small laugh. He questioned, “You’ve heard of the sickness effect? With our colors?”

He briefly nodded.

“Seems like it’s true,” he replied, looping his fingers through strands. “Ever since I woke up this morning everything seems sort of grey. Your eyes seem brown, not gold.”

“Really?” he said quietly, his large eyes looking up at him. He took a deep breath, “That’s good, then.” A smile grew on his face, “That’s _great.”_ Akaashi looked back at him. Bokuto began again, “That means we’re actually soulmates, right?”

He smiled, and ignored the sinking feeling in his chest, “Right.”

Bokuto beamed with radiance.

 

March 23rd

“Ohoho,” a grin grew on his best friend’s face, “So? Akaashi? How’s the soulmate life treating ya?”

“Well,” he replied shortly, sitting on the floor in front of his couch instead of on it.

Kuroo gave a quizzical look, but said nothing of it. “Y’know,” he voiced, his eyes looking around Akaashi’s apartment, “Usually you come over to mine’s. I haven’t been here in a while,” he plopped down on the couch, crossing his legs over the center table.

Akaashi didn’t reply to it. He felt tired, his eyes seeming to burn every second they were open, but it was only five in the evening. He exhausted himself with his own thoughts, and wanted to pull his hair out. He felt like he needed to throw up – not physically, though. He felt like he needed to blurt the words that have been creating an unsettling feeling in his stomach.

“Hey,” Kuroo leaned over, frowning at him, “You alright?”

“My dad wants me to come back,” he finally let out.

“Woah, woah,” Kuroo stood up, and moved to sit in front of him on the floor, his legs crossed. Akaashi looked agonized once noticing his friend’s wide eyes, “ _Back?_ As in, _Tokyo_?”

“Yeah,” he was somewhat afraid to admit it.

“Uh, okay, _why_?”

“Because,” he grimaced, “The medical school he started teaching at – he wants me to enroll. To take the admission test. He says that I’ll have a good chance of getting in. I’m getting my bachelor’s degree this semester.”

“In _Tokyo?_ ” he screeched again, leaning forwards. “Akaashi -…Akaashi, dude, bro…” Kuroo leaned back again, “You should take it. You really should.”

“I know,” he replied, a little frustrated at his friend’s obviousness, “But-“

“He’ll understand.” Kuroo interrupted him, confidently, yet in a reassuring tone.

“He won’t,” he shut his eyes, leaning back to rest his head on the couch, “I don’t think I’d want him to, either. If he understands, he won’t try to make me stay.”

“Akaashi,” Kuroo began after a minute, “I…Oikawa’s always saying…” he grunted, trying to find a way to explain things, “We’re always teasing you, about you being book-smart.”

“Believe it or not, but calling me that isn’t too degrading,” he furrowed his eyebrows, his eyes still closed.

“That’s all the intelligence you have.” Kuroo almost blurted, ignoring his comment. “You’re terrible at reading people.”

He slowly lifted his head back up, and opened his eyes.

“You…you always tend to think there’s always an exact answer to everything, that there’s always one answer that’s better than the other.”

“There is, thou-“

“There _isn’t_.” Kuroo said, a little bit harshly, “People aren’t black and white, Akaashi. Nothing is. Stop acting like Bokuto will act the way you expect him to, in some vivid scenario of yours that’s completely _unreal_.”

“I’d think that I’d know him the most,” was all he said.

“I’d think that you of all people would understand, seeing as black and white was all you used to see.”

His breath staggered, and his eyes glowered at the floor as the words weighed the air down.

  Kuroo wasn’t difficult to talk to – he was agreeable, and reasonable, and usually knew how to balance certain aspects of things. He also wasn’t one to get fired up. His presence wasn’t one that was loud and overbearing, it was rather intense and overwhelming. There was a catch in his tone whenever he got upset, Akaashi knew, and there was a tone he used when he was simply a little frustrated. He was upset at him, for sure.

He knew Kuroo’s narrow eyes were staring at him, and he wondered if he felt guilty. _He shouldn’t_ , Akaashi thought. _He was right, after all_.

“Ok,” his voice almost breaking way within the two syllables.

“Ok?” Kuroo repeated, noticing the flaw in his voice.

“Yeah…I guess you’re right. But it doesn’t make the decision any easier.” He looked up at him, and Kuroo’s expression relaxed.

“It’s alright. I don’t think any of them would be easy.” Kuroo spoke, his words significantly softer and more cautious. “What should matter is whatever is best for you guys.”

“I have a lot of time to think about this.” Akaashi blinked at the floor. “I don’t even know if I’ll go, after all. I _should_ go. But it’s not like it’s a guaranteed thing, anyways.”

“I guess.” Kuroo somewhat deflated. He knew he wasn’t too pleased about him not seeing things as directly as he did.

“Anyways,” Akaashi started slowly, “I heard your anniversary with Kenma-san is coming up.”

His eyes slightly widened at the abrupt topic change, but he grinned proudly, “It’s next week!”

Akaashi smiled somewhat fondly, “Whatever you plan on getting him won’t top what he got you.”

Kuroo snickered, not believing it. “Got him a piano.”

Akaashi felt a laugh bubbling up in his chest, and tried to hide it, but ended up giving out a sound that was somewhat like a cough.

“Woah, you okay, bro?” Kuroo asked carefully, reaching over to the table next to them and handing him a glass of water.

“It’s alright,” Akaashi meekly replied, his hand on his chest. “A piano, you said?”

His eyebrows strained in slight concern, but replied nonetheless, “Yeah. A few months ago, in October, I think? He saw an old picture of me playing one I used to have. He seemed really interested in it! He’d let me talk on and on about it, and asked me all about the different models. Maybe he’d let me play some time,” Kuroo chuckled, “It’s an electric one, obviously.”

“Yes,” the tips of his lips curled up, “Because it’d be a waste to move a grand one into a place you don’t even own.”

“Exactly!” Kuroo clapped his hands together. “I’m glad you understand; I hope Kenma does. He seemed mostly interested in the grand ones – I hope it isn’t disappointing or anything.” His lips tightening at the thought.

“I think he’ll like it fine,” he reassured him easily, all too amused, “I know I would.”

Kuroo gave a sheepish grin, and Akaashi gave a small one back to him. He got up, pushing on his knee to elevate. “You want to go somewhere? The atmosphere from here makes me want to sulk.”

“Then turn on the lights,” Kuroo rolled his eyes, slightly twisting his back to look at him.

His frown lingered, “No thanks.”

His friend let out a groan, to which he whole-heartedly ignored by stepping out the front door, waiting for him to come out as well. He finally did, and Akaashi noticed that his hair was even more disheveled than before, just from lying down for a while. He bemused at the unmanageable hair, and inwardly thanked his father for his softer curls.

He spoke lowly as the jogged down the steps, “Before we do anything, I want to say sorry. I still feel it lingering behind me.” He admitted as they reached the bottom, their shoes thudding onto the heavy floor.

Kuroo met his eyes in wonder, “About?”

“About-“ he pauses, “For getting upset at you, right now. Even though you were just trying to help and all.

“Oh.” Kuroo scratches the back of his head, “I’m not sure why you’re apologizing. You’re usually that aggressive.”

“Aggressive?” Akaashi frowns, “I’m not aggressive.”

“Oh, yeah,” Kuroo slightly grins, holding his hands up, “You’re passive aggressive.”

He rolls his eyes, and lightly knocks his foot to his friend’s ankle. “Is Oikawa at your place, then?”

 “Groceries.” He replies, as they turn onto a main street. “You want ice cream?”

“No,” he replies almost immediately. “Yesterday was Sunday sundae day.”

“Sunday sundae day?” Kuroo repeats, eyeing an ice cream shop ahead of them, “Like, Bokuto-Sunday-sundae-day?”

“Yeah, that Sunday-sundae-day.” He repeats, amusement in his eyes, but not on his lips.

Kuroo nods, and as he fixes his jacket, Akaashi notices a slight twitch in his fingers from the eagerness, “I still think you should go, if that’s in the back of your mind as well.”

“Somewhat.” He cringes at the topic. “I don’t think I want to go.”

“Dude.”

He stares at the floor in front of him and tries to explain himself, “I just- I think the whole thing is a little inconvenient, anyways. I’d be weird for me to do it when I’m already so comfortable here.”

“Job opportunities,” Kuroo deadpans, “Richer city. Richer school. Better education. It’s Tokyo, dude. The only few times we’ve been there was for training camp every once a while, but we were restricted to the actual camp. Imagine living there.”

“It seems bothersome,” he admits with all honesty.

Kuroo snorts, and stumbles a little on the slightly bunched up carpet as he moves to sit next to him. “That’s the only honest thing you’ll say about this.”

“Well, what would you do?” he mutters.

“I’d go.” He said simply. “And-“ he starts again just as Akaashi is about to cut in, “Kenma would understand. Kenma would support me. Kenma wouldn’t be bothered, because we’re soulmates. Even if anything should happen, it’d be alright.” He says firmly, “Because whether or not I want to I’d always love him.”

Akaashi almost freezes, and wonders if his breathing is noticeably heavier. “I’m not in love with him.” He says, and he’s unsure in how to react when he notices the usual drop in his stomach when talking about Bokuto.

“Not yet.” Kuroo says, and kicks at a stick, his shoe letting out a slight scraping sound, “You’re still here another few months, if you decide to go. You’ll love him by the end of it all.”

“Maybe if I go, I should break things off now.” He suddenly says.

“What?” he squeaks, his voice rising as he turns to his friend, “No! What the _fuck,_ Akaashi!”

“It was just a suggestion.”

“A suggestion,” he scowls, “A suggestion my ass. You boss yourself around, Akaashi. Your suggestions always turn into answers.”

“Well, make a better suggestion.” He sighs.

“You should go.” He rolls his eyes. Kuroo mutters something under his breath before saying, “Listen. You’re sick of me saying it, okay? But you have to go. You know I, out of all people, support you and Bokuto, but before I support your relationship, I’ll support _you_.”

He feels as though his throat is closing, as he musters out, “Maybe you’re right.”

“Maybe.” He sighs. There’s a light jingle as they enter the small shop, and it smells like any typical ice cream store. He begins, “My words about Kenma and love and all that gross stuff didn’t help you, huh?” Akaahsi doesn’t reply, so he finishes, “Because you’re so early in your relationship - if it’s even official yet. You don’t know if you two will last after only a few months.”

He lets out a breath, as if he was being strangled, “Yeah.”

Kuroo momentarily turns his attention to the sign in front of them, displaying various flavors. “Is it possible to get everything but chocolate?” his nose scrunched up. Akaashi doesn’t answer, knowing that Kuroo wasn’t too serious. After ordering, and courteously turning the woman at the cashier down, the two take a seat in one of the small tables in the shop.

“I’m surprised there are a lot of people, here.” Akaashi slowly swivels his head around, taking in the crowd, “It’s still pretty cold out.”

“Oh, yeah,” Kuroo agrees absentmindedly, getting up and heading to the counter. “That was quick,” he grins happily as he returns. He spoons a scoop, “It’s never too cold for ice cream.”

Akaashi eyes him as he eats, and snorts as Kuroo’s lips turn a dark pink, the blood rushing to them. “It’s sort of cold,” he admits as he tosses the empty cup away, and the two get up.

“Cravings gone, then?” he banters as they step out.

“Yeah,” Kuroo slightly smiles, rubbing his hands together. “Also, I meant to ask you, but are you close with Iwaizumi?”

Akaashi gives a light shake of his head, a questioning look on his face as he asks, “Why? I can talk to him, but I don’t remember ever doing anything with him alone.”

“Oh,” Kuroo nods, “I sorta expected. But I was just hoping.” He shrugs and begins to explain, “Because Oikawa and him aren’t doing so well. Iwaizumi moved out of his apartment, got a new one by himself. He’s been in it for almost two months, and didn’t tell Oikawa a thing.” He purses his lips, “The idiot knows how much Oikawa wants to move in with him. It’s the only reason he puts up with me, after all.” He lets out a small chuckle.

Akaashi just simply says, “Oh.” There’s a tension in his chest, and he recognizes it as concern for the two of them. They, of all people, were the most deserving of being each other’s soulmates. “I could talk to Iwaizumi-san.”

“Really?”  Kuroo blinks at him, and questions, “Why?”

“Because Oikawa-san would do it for me,” is all he says.

Kuroo lets out a sound that Akaashi can’t describe, yet processes it as, “Oh, god.” Kuroo proves him correct, by muttering, “Oh, god. Now I feel bad. Even though Tooru is an asswipe.”

Akaashi smiles, “You could come, then.”

Kuroo ponders over it, “I want to. Do you think it might make him feel intimdated, though? Two of us? I mean, Akaashi, you’re a well liked guy. You’re like, soothing or something.” He shrugs, “But I feel as though it’ll make it seem like a confrontation if I come.”

“It _is_ a confrontation.”

“Oh, really?” he tilts his head back and forth, thinking it over. “I’ll come, then.”

“Good.” He smiles somewhat in triumph, and Kuroo grins at it, mentioning, “You’re smiling a lot more.”

He gives him a look, “You know how many of those are real.”

“Less than half of them,” he recites, “But even so. Say, before, you smiled,” he drags on, his mind searching for a reasonable number, “8 times a day?” Akaashi simply shrugs, so he continues, “Ok, 8 times. Only 4 of those times are real. But I’ve noticed, though, that nowadays you can crack, like, 20 smiles a day. It’s almost like you squeeze in all those fake smiles just to balance out the fact that you know you’ll break 10 real ones. Y’know what I mean?”

He peers his eyes at him, “I understand it. I don’t believe it very much.”

“You’re blind,” Kuroo chimes.

“Am not,” he chimes back.

His friend abruptly stops and turns to him, shoving a finger to his chest, countlessly stabbing him with it. Akaashi looks down at it, then looks up to his friend’s stuttering face, cocking an eyebrow, “Y-You! You sang back to me! You never echo my voice emphasis!” he accuses, and moves his hand up to lightly pat him on his cheeks, alternating, “A-and, you’re letting me poke you. Y-you never do!”

“Kuroo,” Akaashi rolls his eyes, “When’s the last time you’ve _poked_ me, exactly?”

“Two seconds ago,” he presses, “And you didn’t do shit!” A grin forms on his face as though he’s discovered something that shouldn’t be known.

Akaashi grabs his friend’s wrist to stop him from patting his cheeks, “That’s not what I meant.”

Kuroo grins wider, “Then I have no idea what you’re talking about.” He tries to shrug nonchalantly, but ends up raising his shoulders unnaturally high. Akaashi snorts. “All I know is that you’re much, much, happier, and you can’t deny it’s because of Bokuto. Ok? Ok.” He finishes.

“I am.” He agrees simply, and begins walking again.

“I-“ Kuroo begins, and then frowns. “You admit it?” he somewhat jogs to catch back up with him, his legs following his step.

“I never denied it,” He says in the same chant he did that started the conversation, cracking a grin at his friend.

Kuroo laughs, “Alright, fair enough.” They continue walking, and he chirps, “Where are we going?”

Akaashi looks at him, “I was following you.”

Kuroo blinks, “ _No,_ ” he drags on, “You wanted to come out, so obviously you know where we’re going.”

He raises an eyebrow, and huffs, “I said I wanted to come out. I never said I wanted to go anywhere specific. You led the way to the ice cream shop, and was somewhat ahead of me the whole time. So I assume you know where to take us?”

His friend looks somewhat taken back, and scratches his head, “You assume wrong. I have no idea where we are.” He laughs nervously, “Uh, we’re lost.”

Akaashi gives him a quizzical look, “No we’re not? We’re a 10 minute walk from my house.”

“What,” he squeaks, “I thought you just said you were following me! Like, you thought I knew where we were!”

“I did.” He nods in confirmation, “But obviously I know the city around my area, Kuroo.”

His usually narrowed eyes widen, “Oh. _Oh_. Ok. I sort of,” he tried to find the word, “Assume everything, huh?” He laughs at the situation. “Wouldn’t it be fun if we did get lost though?”

“We have phones. This isn’t the stone age.” He deadpans.

“Just what if!”

“Then yes,” he says, dryly, “Very fun.”

Kuroo nudges him with his arm jokingly, and lets out a sound that’s similar to a screech when it almost knocks his friend over.

 

March 27th

“Who’re you texting?” Bokuto asks from the kitchen.

His dark eyes glanced at his notification, not opening it. “No one,” he replies, setting his phone down.

“Akaashi,” Bokuto stared at him. Akaashi had grown used to the certain tone Bokuto used whenever he knew he hiding something.

“My parents – my dad, specifically,” he finally said.

“Oh,” he blinked at him, and walked around the island to settle on the couch next to him, “Why’s it a big deal?”

He lied, “It isn’t, really. I’m just not too close to him, so it’s just sort of unnerving.”

Bokuto nodded slowly, and replied, “I get it.”

He felt his throat get dry, but didn’t say anything else. He leaned over slightly, resting his head on his shoulder.

“Akaashi,” Bokuto spoke up a minute later, “When could I kiss you?”

An unfamiliar tug in his chest made him frown. He was used to all sorts of aches – head aches, stomach aches, muscles being sore and bruises burning cold. He wasn’t used to the weight on his chest, however.

“I don’t know.” He murmured.

“Do you like-“ he began shifting the tiniest bit, “Would you feel more comfortable if like…you initiated it, or whatever? Because you can kiss me whenever you’d like. But I don’t want to sort of pressure you, or anything.” He spoke, his sentences chopped up.

Akaashi relaxed a little more, his head sinking further, almost to his neck. He replied softly, echoing the words, “You can kiss me whenever you’d like.”

“Really?” Bokuto didn’t hide the excitement in his voice.

“Sure,” he answered, knowing if he hesitated for even a second he’d convince himself to not speak at all. The pressure seemed to increase, as if his ribs were collapsing.

“Are you sure?” he asked again, sitting up to look at him. Akaashi smiled a bit.

“Yeah.”

So he did.

 

April 3rd

Akaashi doesn’t speak of his situation to anyone but Kuroo. He thinks about his friends, how different they are, and knows even though all they will do is try to help, in the end, it will only make him tired of them. So he doesn’t say a word, and hides his darkest bags with almost twice as many fake smiles. They all think he’s smiling so much, even if it’s small, because of Bokuto. He feels guilt build up in him when he realizes how wrong the idea is.

Bokuto has made him happy, as Kenma had spoken about, far more than he thought he ever would when he first met him. They aren’t too serious, yet, he knows. But the intentions they both have make it feel as though they are.

He loves his voice; he decides as he tries to finish up his work one night. He finds himself admiring how different it seems to sound all the time. How it’s higher and seems to bounce when he’s excited, or how it seems rougher yet flows when he’s just woken up. He enjoys how light yet strong his laugh is, and how his giggles make his cheeks feel warm. He’s fond of the way it drops and grits as he speaks against his skin, his cheeks, or neck. He adores how he drags words on for no reason at all, and how he says his name whenever he needs him to. It’s refreshing to him, he thinks, and it has a certain depth to it that makes him think about things differently.

He decides if he were to see in black and white forever, just his voice would be more vivid than all of the colors he could imagine.

 

 

April 5th

“Akaashi,” his name is spoken in a soft way, “What are we?”

Akaashi tries to hold back a small smile. Kuroo has shown him one too many posts.

“Whatever you want us to be.” He’s been telling himself recently to let Bokuto lead on things. He’s established that a majority of the time, he wants the same thing he does; the only difference is he always seems to stand in his own way.

He lets out a whine, “It’s embarrassing to say.”

“To say I’m your boyfriend?” he cocks an eyebrow to prove his point, but lets out a shaky breath as subtly as he can.

Bokuto stares at him for a second, his mouth slightly opened, before he nods furiously, his face reddening, “Y-yeah!” Akaashi finally smiles fully, and wonders if he’s capable of blushing as well, with the way Bokuto stares at him before smiling back.

“Well, then.” He fakes a sigh, “I suppose it’s good that you don’t have one.”

“Wha-“ he begins, but then cries out a whine, “ _Kaashi._ ”

“Yes?” he asks him, a smirk almost showing itself on his face as he meets warm eyes who look at him with adoration. It disappears only seconds later, however, and his breath hitches when he feels lips press against his gently, almost not touching his at all. He had noticed the dip in his bed before he realized how close he was.

He closes his eyes as a hand curls around the back of his neck, and Bokuto moves his lips softly, asking him quietly, “Could I be your boyfriend?”

He feels his breath, and he sucks a breath when Bokuto lightly bites his lip. “ _Yes_ ,” he gasps, and places his hands on the other’s shoulders, pushing him back, his lips pressing into his.

Bokuto catches himself and leans back on his elbows and laughs a little, pursing his lips against Akaashi’s when he feels his shoulders insistently getting pushed back again. He lies on his back, his head falling onto a pillow, and a soft moan erupts from his chest as his face is cupped by two soft hands, thumbs pressing into his cheekbones.

“Akaashi,” his voice is breathy when the other pulls away, and closes his eyes again, his head falling to the side. He laces his fingers through curls for what feels like the millionth time as he feels warmth peck against his jaw, down to his neck.

He repeats his name, and the other replies with a soft hum, kissing his collarbone before lifting his head up to him. “Yes?” he asks softly.

“What the hell,” Bokuto looks up at him, his breathing still a little uneven, “You didn’t kiss that…” he smiles a little embarrassedly, “intense, the first time.”

“Well,” he replies, and reaches up for a second to peck his lips, “That’s because it was the first time. A little self-explanatory, isn’t it?” He lowers his head to his chest.

Bokuto says after a moment, raising a hand to rest on the other’s head, “Yeah. I guess.”

Akaashi lifts his hand as well, placing it on his shoulder and telling him, “You feel like a car engine.”

“A car engine?” their voices went down, and didn’t rise again.

“Yeah,” he murmurs, pressing his cheek further in, “Your heart. It’s fast – it’s almost like it’s one, steady, beat.”

“Oh,” is what he says.

Seconds later he lifts himself up slightly, and moves upwards to bury his face into his neck. Bokuto hugs him, and closes his eyes. “I could almost fall asleep - to your breathing.” Akaashi says.

“Then you should,” he says, “You need it.” He hugs him a little tighter.

Akaashi feels his cheek press into his forehead, and he closes his eyes until he manages to steady his breath.

 

April 17th

Akaashi felt drained as he walked home from the gym. He was used to being tired, sure; he was used to the buckling of his knees and the shortness of breath and the way his eyes couldn't focus, everything blurry. He was used to bring tired. He wasn't used to being drained.

The weight of possibilities was dragging his body lower, and every step he took felt heavier. If it was easy for him, he'd decide to just stay. But the reason it was so hard wasn't because he was indecisive; it was the guilt building up slowly at the thought of leaving, because he knew he wanted to, and, inevitably, he would.

 _Things were easier before I met him_ , he thought, _when things were in black and white_.

Maybe that was the sort of sick twist to his soulmate sign; glorifying a metaphor his eyes have raked upon in so many books. His boots didn't make the sound of the crisp, soft, slush of snow erupt beneath him. Instead there was the dull thud of his heel hitting the cement.

He didn't know how many times he'd have to allow the idea to circulate in his mind for him to make up an answer. He had told Kuroo that he should break up with him, now. Kuroo had been close to outrage, if he recalled. Besides, it's a little too late to break things off before getting any more serious. He already allowed him to break his walls down, and he had lost the blueprints to build them back up.

 _I should still tell him_ , he tried to convince himself. He didn't want to lead him on, only to tell him he was moving almost across the entire island the next week. He was terrified of how he would react; he wouldn't be angry. He'd be destroyed. He would sniffle and sob, and at some point he _would_ get angry. But, then, he'd go back to crying and would probably ask him to stay, or find a way to follow him.

What'd kill him the most, he knew, wouldn't be what would be in front of his eyes at the moment. What'd kill him the most was the slow, and painful realization that he wouldn't be waiting for him the day he came back.

 He swallowed a lump in his throat as he climbed the few flights of stairs, mentally crossing the option off. Although there was a lift of his shoulders, his chest never felt heavier.

When he arrived into his apartment, slipping his boots of quickly, he traces his fingers across every pocket before pulling out his phone. Seconds later, he grimaced as his voice almost cracked, "Could I come over?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> honestly....just keep your mouth shut akaashi


	7. april 18th - april 19th

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can't believe it's been three weeks oh my god I'm so sorry. Thank you guys so much for your support!! Sorry again for the long wait!!
> 
> Dialogue heavy ft. light angst and fluff

April 18th

Akaashi thanked Kuroo briefly.

“Yeah, yeah. It’s cool.” He waved it off.

“I’ll return it as nice as usual,” he replied promptly, tossing the keys back and forth in his hands.

“If there’s anyone who’d I actually believe, it’d be you.” Kuroo chuckled and placed his hand on the doorknob. “Oh!” he begins, “I meant to mention this to you again, and now’s the perfect time. Iwaizumi lives a little bit away from here, on the way to Bokuto’s. You think on the way back you could talk to him, like we said?”

Akaashi gave him a puzzled look and asked, “You don’t want to come anymore?”

Kuroo let out a small laugh, “I honestly tried to talk to him last week. I got too riled up and he kicked me out after I said a few things.”

“A few things,” his eyes locked onto his, giving him a look that implied for him to speak up.

“Well,” he laughed nervously, “Let’s just say I was glancing at a pair of nearby scissors and his crotch.”

“Oh my god,” he muttered and opened the door to the hallway.

“Anyways, anyways,” he dismissed, but added in nonetheless, “It was an empty threat! Uh,” he cleared his throat, “You’re a little better at talking to people, y’know? So you’ll have an easier time. You could probably get him to spill everything. So, good luck with that.” He nodded to him, and Akaashi rolled his eyes before he gave a wave as he began walking down the hall.

Kuroo peeked his head out of the doorway, “Have a safe trip!”

“Of course,” he called back.

……….

He drove there for what seemed like a short amount of time, even though it touched just over an hour and a half.

He was familiar with a few roads and highways – his own home, or, his mother’s, was a little bit of a detour, but almost eerily close to Bokuto’s place – probably fifteen minutes if Akaashi had to guess. Even through brief memories and recollections of what it was like to still live around there, there was a small bit of fondness at the thought of them being closer than either one of them knew, ever since they were smaller.

 _Only fifteen minutes,_ he repeated in his mind as his eyes glanced at the road that would lead to his house. His eyes flicked back to the road in front of him.

The sky was still new – the sun wouldn’t fall for another few hours, and Akaashi was a little thankful at that. He was always a little bit more nervous when driving through the dark.

He was still in an area he remembered, and had last been in years ago. He had drove past numerous times over the years, but never once did he step out of the car, or even pull over. If he got out, he was afraid that it’d become all too real, and he didn’t want to go back to how things were when he lived with his mother – alone, and close to numb.

He remembered the scent of leaves, brisk and fresh and somewhat like mint, but not as cool. They hung on trees and small parks near his house, and was usually accompanied by the smell of salt and sea, if he had gone long enough to not be familiarized with it anymore.

He didn’t want to remember the smells – he didn’t want to remember how his mother scolded him whenever he did something out of the ordinary. If he scraped his knee, she’d tell him to bandage it himself, otherwise it’d ruin her schedule. If he were to show her a painting he did in art class, she’d warn him that he’d better not have stained any clothes. If he came home with awards, she’d remind him to throw them into the recycle bin, not the regular trash. He wondered if she ever wanted a child, or if she only had one because his father wanted one.

He moved to live with his father when he was in his second year of high school, which he didn’t mind too much. He never had anyone he was close to as a child. He just feigned politeness and interest. He met Oikawa and Iwaizumi in their third year, but didn’t become friends with them until they found each other again through Tsukishima and Kuroo, almost three years later. Tsukishima went to school with most of the others in their group, the only others being Kuroo and Kenma, who attended a third high school.

They had all recognized each other, and frequently met during training. They never became friends until after high school, however. Akaashi smiled a little bit, remembering almost exactly how he felt when he saw all of them.

He felt like a different person, he recalled. He lived under a parent who, although worked frequently, showed him clear affection and often helped him and attended his games, even though he had never asked. He remembered how when he talked to people, they all seemed genuinely interested in everything. They all seemed to be more motivated, more inspired to do something, even though at the time, Akaashi realizes most of them had no idea what.

He found a comfort in his volleyball team, and found his own reason to wake up every morning, practicing tosses by himself and occasionally being able to with a partner when Iwaizumi became too frustrated with Oikawa for the day. He had, surprisingly, become captain in his third year. Oikawa threatened to shave his head off if he were to destroy the team he put so much effort in training and shaping into a group that was in sync. He whole heartedly promised he wouldn’t, and felt obliged to thank him before he walked out of the gym doors for the last time as proud as ever, tears in his eyes. He almost had missed them.

It was a peaceful goodbye, Akaashi remembered, and was shattered three years later on Kuroo’s birthday party as he had arrived to see the two of them once again, passed out on the floor. He had set a blanket over them.

He recalled Tsukishima, Hinata, and Kageyama well. The three of them were all opposing forces, even though there was an obvious gravitation towards the latter two. Tsukishima made more of a direct first year rivalry towards the two of them, with the quick spike Akaashi remembered made him feel thrilled to be able to go against.

Karasuno, he remembered Iwaizumi announcing to them one day, was like a diamond – unbreakable, unless countered equally. Karasuno had beaten them to represent in the Nationals, and although Oikawa didn’t admit it, he was a little bit glad that it was them, out of anybody, to beat them. They won the Nationals that year. The next year, when Akaashi was captain, they took the representative spot instead. However, they hadn’t won it all like their rivaling crows had the year before.

Losing in the semifinals made his body shake. His nails dug into his palms so hard that they bled, and although there were no tears from his eyes from losing, there were some when he saw the rest of the team’s reactions. He left with a sense of pride, however, and smiled at them like they had won the day he left; it was a parallel to Oikawa’s, a sight with bent waists and thank you’s.

He smiled to himself in the car, and forgot about his previous concerns about haunting recollections of events years before the mentioned.

He arrived fifteen minutes later, and parked the car, wincing a little at the loud honking that signified the lock. He hated the blaring of it at night.

Bokuto lived in a house, unlike the rest of them. It was his parent’s house, who, after paying it off, moved away and gave it to him. In a sense it was much more responsibility, and it was something he admired him for doing. He never mentioned anything or complained about bills or having to properly take care of everything around it.

Akaashi made his way to the door and ringed the bell, his fingers subconsciously moving to pinch on knuckles on his other hand. Bokuto swung the door open happily, and grinned at him, pulling him into a hug, and inside, at once.

Akaashi always felt more welcomed there then most places – even his own apartment. He figured it was because the walls felt like they were aged in a comforting way. The paint wasn’t old, per say, but it was easy to tell that it wasn’t as bright as it had once been. His eyes raked around the house every time he visited because he knew he didn’t too often.

He saw the mark in the cement doorway that looked like someone had chipped it off. He noticed how the corner of one of the pillows on the couch was off, feathers poking out. He saw shelves of books that he saw in his own room – he noticed the book were thicker than ones he owned, however. He imagined what events led to a small stain on the carpet – possibly wine? He smiled at the dent in one of the cupboards Bokuto had made the last time he was over.

“I feel like I haven’t seen you in years.” Bokuto’s smile reached his ears, laughing quietly, “I’m becoming really attached.”

Akaashi grunted as he plopped onto the couch, and grimaced, hoping he hadn’t heard it.

“Was that too weird?” he asked worriedly, his head ducking a fraction so small it was almost looked over.

“No, no.” he shook his head, “It’s alright.” He tried to add a smile for reassurance, but as he spoke the words out of habit, his mind was focused on the conversation he would inevitably bring up soon.

Catching the distraction in his mind, Bokuto frowned a little deeper, but didn’t mention it. The tension on his face didn’t ease completely at the reassurance, and he gave a silent sigh that was presented through the heaving of his chest. “Okay,” he spoke anyways.

“Sorry,” he forced the words out of his mouth the second Bokuto’s closed. “I like you a lot – you know that. It wasn’t weird.” He gave a sigh of relief at the small smile that appeared soon after, and leaned forward to kiss his cheek.

Bokuto blinked, the corners of his lips turning up. “Y’know, Akaashi.” Bokuto started, “You don’t speak very much. But when you do, it always seems to have a lot of importance.”

He thought about it, “I guess I’m sort of straightforward.”

Bokuto laughed, “Uh huh. Sort of.”

Akaashi snorted and Bokuto’s laugh rang again, before turning to face him completely, one leg bent on the couch while the other grazed the bottom of the floor. “Yo, Akaashi.”

He looked at him, giving it as a sign to continue. As he was about to, however, Akaashi interrupted, commenting, “You say my name a lot, like you’re always starting a conversation with me when we’ve been talking for a few minutes already.”

Bokuto cocked his head, “Oho? You noticed?” he gave a grin, “I just like saying your name, I guess. Akaa-shi. Ak-aashi. Akaa-aa-aa-shi. A-kaashi.”

He laughed softly at the way his lips formed his name in odd pronunciations. “Keiji.” His first name was spoken, and he gave an amused look at the somewhat panicked expression.

Akaashi gave another small grin, before admitting, “I’ve forgotten your name.”

He broke into a full laugh when he heard a loud groan, followed by Bokuto’s head hitting his shoulder. “Akaashi,” he dragged on, wrapping his arms around his waist, “Why?”

“I’m sorry,” he ruffled his hair, before stroking it to fix it back into its normal shape. “In my defense, I think the only way I’ve heard it was through Oikawa-san saying it.”

He let out another whine, “Damn, that means Oikawa talks shit about me!”

“It’s not shit,” he assured, rubbing his back in a comical way.

He heard Bokuto giggle before he looked up at him, his mouth still pressed against his shoulder. “Can I keep this shirt?” his voice was muffled, so he spoke at an even higher volume than usual.

“Why?”

“It smells like you,” he said as it was obvious, moving up to prop his chin on his shoulder. He pecked his lips, “Duh.”

Akaashi gave an amused smile again, and gave him a quick kiss in return before replying promptly, “No.”

Another kiss. “Why not?”

Another. “Because this is one of my favorites, Bokuto.”

Bokuto kissed his neck, his lips lingering longer before he breathed, “I’ll give you one of mine.”

“Tempting,” he said bluntly, “But I don’t want it.”

“Really?” he pulled away and gave him a teasing look.

He opened his mouth, then closed it, and peered his eyes at him before admitting, “No.”

He cheered, “Does that mean we can trade?”

Akaashi tilted his head at the thought, “Next time.”

“Why not now?” Bokuto asked, frowning, “I want to wear it.”

“And you can,” he replied, “Next time.” He received a glare, and explained simply, “I don’t have another shirt with me.”

“Which is why I’ll give you one of mine!” he exclaimed, beginning to become frustrated at the stubbornness being presented to him.

“Eh.”

“Eh?” he squeaked, “Akaashi. Give me your shirt.”

“No.” he said simply, leaning over to pick up a glass of iced tea, “I like this shirt. I’ll give you a different one-“

“Next time,” he mocked. “Akaashi – Akaashi, listen. I think I’m going to die.”

“Bokuto – Bokuto, listen. You can die next time.”

“I swear, Akaashi – I swear on your pretty, pretty thighs,” Akaashi felt his neck warm up, “I will rip that shirt off of you, sew it back together, and keep it forever unless you give it to me. Then I’ll be able to skip the first two steps and just go to straight to keeping it.”

“Fine, Bokuto- _san_.” Akaashi rolled his eyes, and Bokuto’s eyebrow twitched in response to the honorific, “Why are you so keen on this, now?”

“Just because.”

“Just because.” He repeated.

Bokuto nodded. “I just – I just have a feeling about something. I’ll tell you when you leave what it is. Not now, though.”

Akaashi stared at him, and saw how Bokuto began pinching at his fingers in slight worry, before nodding, “Alright.”

Bokuto clapped his hands together, “Now then. Shirt!”

Akaashi grunted, but took it off anyways, bundling it into a ball and handing it to him. “I’m almost one hundred percent sure this was a scheme to see me without my shirt.” He raised an eyebrow at the way Bokuto blatantly stared at him.

“I mean it’s a bonus,” he reasoned, and grinned when Akaashi raised both his eyebrows, “I’ll explain later, remember?”

“Yes, yes, Bokuto. I remember.” He rolled his eyes. “Give me something to wear now. It’s getting cold.”

“I could just hug you.” He teased, leaning forward.

“For the next few hours I’m going to be here?” Akaashi placed a hand on one of his shoulders, pushing him back. He let out a late smile a second afterwards.

“I don’t see why not.”

“Go for it,” he said off handedly, sipping his drink again. He tilted a bit to the right, the weight of his boyfriend almost hanging off of him.

“Four hours,” Bokuto chimed.

 _Stubborn,_ Akaashi thought, placing his hand over the one on his chest, lightly squeezing it. Stubborn was used on people to describe them in a more or less negative way. He found the stubbornness that was worn almost proudly on Bokuto’s shoulders as almost endearing, however. He knew his persistence was selective, though, and only ten minutes later did he receive another shirt.

Hours later, Bokuto was asking, “Are you okay, Akaashi?” He stood in front of his stove, making curry, which Akaashi had learned was surprisingly delicious. With the way he seemed to carelessly toss in ingredients, the familiarity could easily be mistaken for unawareness.

Akaashi nodded, but replied verbally after remembering his back was faced to him.

“Are you sure?” Bokuto asked, and Akaashi heard the click of the oven, the fire going out. He walked around to the side of the counter, his hip resting against it.

Akaashi replied, “Of course. Is something going on with you?”

Bokuto ignored the question, “I know you came here to talk about something. What is it?”

Akaashi pinched at his fingers, “I came over because you told me a few days ago that you missed me. What do you mean?” He was a bit satisfied with how steady his voice was when he spoke.

Bokuto snorted, “That sounds scripted, Akaashi.”

Maybe it was too steady, he cursed.

“It’s nothing. I’m just a little bit worried. I have to talk to Iwaizumi-san on the way back. He and Oikawa seem to be taking a break.” He tried to speak a little bit slower.

Bokuto narrowed his eyes at him and crossed his arms, and Akaashi unashamedly looked at the muscles shadowed through his shirt. “You’re annoying me, Akaashi.”

 _Lord,_ he thought, and leaned back on the couch. Those were the words.

Over the few months of growing closer to Bokuto, Akaashi witnessed the inevitable mood swings that came along with it. Although this time there was a reason behind it, Akaashi was aware of how fast things could escalate. More often than not, it started with a twitching of his eyebrows, followed by huffs, followed by light insults and occasional stomps. The first time it happened, he fell to his knees and hugged his legs for five minutes, sobbing about how he got a C on his recent exam.

He felt a little more relieved, though. The tension seemed to disappear after he realized this was just another one of his dramatics.

Akaashi blinked at him as Bokuto headed over, and inwardly checked stomping off the list as he made his way with heavy, suffocating steps. “Akaashi,” his words were almost stern, the tone of his voice not matching the previous expression of annoyance. His eyebrows pinched in the middle, his face showing despair. “You’re really annoying me,” he repeated.

“Why?” he sighed almost routinely, tugging his hand to make him sit.

“I feel that you think lowly of me.”

Akaashi felt the relaxation course through his fingertips, although it one that was similar to a numbing jolt instead of one of comfort. “Ok,” he replied after a moment. “Could you explain?”

Bokuto pulled his hand back onto his lap, the contact disappearing completely. “You lie a lot.” Was what he started with. “Sometimes when we’re together it feels like all of your attention is on me. Like you genuinely enjoy being with me.”

“I do,” Akaashi interrupted.

Bokuto ignored him, “And sometimes it’s just sort of-“ he paused and pursed his lips. “I don’t know what it is. But it feels like the way you used to treat me when we first met. Like I’m not worth your time. I can tell when your mind is somewhere else, Akaashi.”

He felt his mouth go dry, and was suddenly relieved at the thought of Bokuto’s hand not touching his. He would probably be able to feel his pulse racing through it. This wasn’t a mood swing; he came to a miserable realization. If it wasn’t a mood swing, he thought, he had no idea what this was. Akaashi began to speak but only got a single tone out before being cut off.

“I bet you’re thinking about how you’ve been caught.” His voice was softer now. “About how you’re going to talk your way out of this one. _It’s just class, Bokuto. It’s my parents, Bokuto. Kuroo was annoying me earlier, Bokuto._ ” He shook his head and rubbed his hands up and down his thighs in worry. He continued with an edge to his voice, “Instead of thinking about how I’m trying to tell you that you sometimes make me feel like shit. But you’re just going to think of an excuse, huh?”

Intimidation linked the two of them, and Akaashi felt an almost physical pain when he made eye contact with golden ones. His eyes were glowing, but not with the usual happiness he knew, or the drama he occasionally received. It was one that gave off the same vibe of the one time they were at the mall. It was the same look he gave people he hated, the same one he gave when he was on the court. His eyes were almost challenging him to say something, because he knew that Bokuto knew he was absolutely right.

“I don’t like being mad at you,” Bokuto broke their eye contact, his shoulders falling. “But I want to be. Although I’m really not. It’s just that-” he pursed his lips, “I never know what you’re thinking. Would you be upset if I told you that sometimes I think we aren’t actually soulmates?”

A breath got knocked out of him. “What?” his eyes slightly widened. “Bokuto-“

“I mean, I never had any sort of proof.” Bokuto interrupted again. “This whole time I’ve been going on _your word_ , Akaashi, - that one time I was sick. But how am I supposed to believe you when you can’t even tell me the reason you came over today?”

“ _Bokuto_.” His voice raised, and bit his lip and tried to lower it when he saw Bokuto wince. He wasn’t used to him raising his voice – no one was. “You’re my soulmate.” He insisted almost desperately. “I swear. A-and I want to be with you.”

Bokuto let out a silent sigh, and faced the wall in front of them. He didn’t seem to be angry anymore; however, he had stated he never was. “Then tell me, would you?”

Akaashi murmured some more curses to himself, but sucked in a breath and proceeded in biting his tongue when Bokuto gave him a tired look, waiting.

The words seemed chopped, “I’ve been thinking about going to Tokyo – for school.”

Bokuto huffed, and although his shoulders didn’t droop anymore, they didn’t bounce back up either. “Thought so.”

Akaashi’s mind raced with any sort of clue or hint or mistake he had possibly left behind ever since he had considered wanting to go. There were no loose ends, were there? He had told Kuroo, but he had no doubt that Kuroo wouldn’t speak of it, as sly as his friend was. Then what was it? He went from topic to topic to every encounter he had with Bokuto but found nothing in his memory.

 _We talked about going to a zoo soon; we talked about how Bokuto hated a fellow in one of his classes; we talked about what flavor of ice cream we were going to buy next week; we talked about a book I recently bought._ Akaashi fell short.

“That’s why I asked for your shirt, y’know.” Bokuto’s head was tilted, and Akaashi could feel his heart heavy in his chest. “I sort of had the feeling you were going to go somewhere – away from me, I mean. I just wanted something to remember.”

“How,” his voice demanding instead of questioning.

Bokuto’s head straightened, and he turned a minimal amount to look at him. “Dunno.” His voice was the quietest Akaashi had ever heard it. He wondered if this was what it was like to hear him without a smile for his voice to come out of, and he decided he never wanted to hear it again.

He spoke again, “You might know this – you might not. You’re not too sharp when it comes to reading people, Akaashi.” The way Bokuto’s eyes blinked was seemingly innocent, but Akaashi felt the click of his tongue, the almost mocking words making its way to his ears. “I sort of liked you, even before you made me suspect our whole soulmate match and all.” He smiled a little, “I mean, you’re real pretty. Who wouldn’t?”

He still was able to make the tips of his ears turn red with words laced with disappointment. Bokuto let out a small laugh anyways. “I guess what I mean is that I _always_ felt some sort of attraction towards you, even if it wasn’t romantic yet.” He shrugged, “I sort of feel it going away.”

His eyes grazed over his face, and he felt the bubbling in his chest as he let out a bitter laugh. He mustered the words out, “You don’t like me anymore, then? Romantically? Or at all?”

Bokuto furrowed his eyebrows and his eyes pierced his cold green ones once again before softening. He raised his hand and pinched Akaashi’s ear - he noticed a few people did that to him, actually.

“You’re such an idiot, Akaashi.” Bokuto gave a small grin. His hand moved to the back of Akaashi’s head before lightly pushing him forwards. “That’s not what I meant,” he murmured. “I mean I feel _you_ going away from me.”

He let his arms lace around Bokuto’s, his hands reaching up to grip his shoulders, his face in his neck. He felt Bokuto breathe against him, and he was thankful, oh god was he thankful that it was steady. He wasn’t upset, or angry, or tired of him. His heart was steady. He couldn’t say the same about himself.

He told Bokuto, “I’m-“

“It’s okay.”

He let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding, and let his head rest on Bokuto’s shoulder. “I’m so lucky.” He told him, “To have you, I mean.”

Bokuto laughed, and pulled back, patting his hair down. “You are, huh? I mean, I _am_ the best.”

“You are,” he smiled fondly.

Bokuto kissed his cheek, his lips lingering. Akaashi sometimes found kisses on his cheek more comforting than ones on his lips. He loved the innocence of it, he supposed. The straightforwardness of it, how it screamed simple affection and echoed it back again and again whenever Bokuto gave him lasting ones.

“You’ll be honest?” he murmured against his cheek.

“I will,” he replied instantaneously, “I swear.”

Bokuto pulled back again, and nodded slowly. “Ok. I’m trusting you.”

“I’m sorry you couldn’t before.”

“Hey, hey.” He pinched his nose quickly, and Akaashi scrunched it in dismay. “I never said that.”

He heard Bokuto laugh, and he momentarily closed his eyes. He could finally _breathe_ , and it felt amazing to him. _Everything was alright._ He repeated to himself. _We’re alright._

Bokuto squeezed his hand. “Hey, Akaashi. Want some curry?”

……….

“When did you say you were leaving?” Bokuto asked him, his eyes back to their usual wide shape.

Akaashi glanced at the clock above the television, “Probably half an hour.”

Bokuto had his head in Akaashi’s lap, and he turned to look at the clock as well. Akaashi watched his mouth form a small pout, before turning to bury his head into his stomach.

“Can’t you stay?” he muffled.

“I could,” he admitted, “But I told Kuroo I’d talk to Iwaizumi-san.”

“You could talk tomorrow,” Bokuto rolled his eyes at him, “Sheesh.”

“I don’t know.” He teased, but the tone of his voice didn’t give away his lighthearted intentions, “It’s always colder here, because we’re near the coast. You don’t have many blankets, either.”

“I’ll give you four of my shirts to wear!” Bokuto piped up, “Or five! Because your jersey number was five, get it?”

Akaashi brushed Bokuto’s hair, “There wasn’t much to get, but yes, I do.”

“And I could hug you,” he went on, “To make up for the three hours and fifty-two minutes I didn’t, earlier.”

Akaashi smiled. He leaned down and pecked his lips, “Sometimes you act very–” he tilted his head to think of a word, “-cute.” He felt his own cheeks warm up. Straightforward compliments were more of Bokuto’s thing; he preferred subtle gestures. He continued, “Sometimes you scare the shit out of me.” Bokuto laughed at this. “But you’re often very desirable.” He laced his fingers with Bokuto’s.

Bokuto leaned up, one hand carrying his weight. Akaashi leaned down the slightest bit, but blinked when he was met with a kiss on his neck instead of his lips.

“You smell like curry.” Bokuto giggled into his shoulder.

Akaashi scoffed, “And you don’t?”

Bokuto chuckled and pulled back, laying down again, “You’re telling me to smell myself? Not possible.”

Akaashi poked the space between his eyes, and Bokuto squeezed them shut. He told him, “However, most of the time, you’re damn annoying.” Bokuto laughed again. He kissed the spot he had just touched, his lips barely brushing golden skin, and he said softly, “But I love you anyways.”

He pulled away, then blinked down at Bokuto’s blank expression, and cocked an eyebrow up when Bokuto squeaked, “Ouch.”

He frowned, “…Ouch?”

“That hurts a lot!” he croaked, his hand going over his chest. “Say it again, though!”

“You’re damn annoying?” Akaashi replied bluntly.

Bokuto rolled his eyes, “Fine, fine. Whatever. I love you, too. Jeez, Akaashi.”

“ _What_?” he choked.

Bokuto narrowed his eyes, “What the hell do you mean _what?_ I love you.”

“Where is this coming from?” his eyes flickered, his breathing becoming heavier.

“Uh, you?” Bokuto tilted his head, almost at the edge of his lap. “That I was annoying?” Bokuto tried, in an attempt to get him to remember something that happened no less than a minute ago. “But you love me anyways?” Akaashi’s eyes widened and Bokuto’s own followed the action. “Unless you don’t love me. Like, not yet? Oh my god. This happened once, before. In my second year of high school when my teacher was passing back tests she told me I did a good job and I told her, thanks! Love you too!” he spoke hurriedly. “Obviously I didn’t love her! I mean, I’m gay!”

“No, no.” Akaashi finally steadied himself, and tapped on Bokuto’s lips with his fingers to get him to hush up. He spoke slowly, “I do love you.”

Bokuto’s chest relaxed. He smiled, and Akaashi mirrored his expression as he noticed Bokuto playing with his fingers excitedly. “ _I do love you,_ too.”

“We aren’t getting married,” Akaashi shook his head, his smile still visible. “You didn’t have to say the ‘do’ part.”

Bokuto closed eyes and hummed, “Yeah, well. Not yet.”

 Akaashi nuzzled his nose into Bokuto’s neck, in an attempt to hide the redness of his ears once again.

 

 

April 19th

Akaashi felt a comfort bloom into his chest as he woke up the next morning.

In a sense, he thought that Bokuto confronting him was a good thing to have happened. His mind was clear, and there was no invisible ink on his skin with written lies as he held his boyfriend’s hands. Akaashi had noticed the unexpected calmness in the way Bokuto handled it – at the same time, however, the fact that he was anticipating some sort of yell the entire time was a scream in its own right.

He opened his narrow eyes to see soft black eyelashes fluttering softly against warm cheeks. They usually slept with one of them resting on the other’s chest, but Akaashi found himself liking the current position better. They were facing each other, their legs entangled, Akaashi’s hair wispy against Bokuto’s skin, their foreheads touching. Bokuto’s hands were locked around Akaashi’s neck, and he could feel the warmth of him across his arms.

Bokuto wasn’t the sun, wasn’t simply bright as he once believed. He was something rarer, something of more beauty. He could never be taken for granted as the sun was, showing in half of the hours of each day. A solar eclipse came to mind.

He rested a palm on Bokuto’s cheek, his thumb tracing down the slope of his cheekbone, over his bottom lip. He breathed in the smell of the sheets, and kissed him with just enough force to taste his skin along his tongue.

He loved him, and the way his chest never calmed showed it. He’d never get used to him, he knew. The way he moved was entrancing, and the way his name rolled off his tongue was captivating. He smiled to himself, his eyes dancing along the faded freckles on his cheeks.

He wasn’t who people thought he was after day of knowing him. He wasn’t mood swings and happy grins, and cheers and raw determination. He wasn’t a child; he wasn’t as dependent or foolish as he led people to believe. He wasn’t who people thought he was after a day of knowing him, or a month, or two, or three, or even who he thought he was yesterday.

Akaashi admired how open he was with himself, but soon realized that he went by the formality of only speaking when spoken to, beyond the layers of simple stories, and likes and dislikes he displayed to the public.

His light was beautiful, but Akaashi knew he had only ever seen it once or twice. The shining he usually experienced when he was with him was more of a reflection of the real thing. There was only a rim of light around him, the rest of it hollow – Akaashi believed this was why he was an eclipse.

He smiled again, a little wider this time, knowing the light only rained itself onto him, and left anyone else blinded.

He kissed a spot on the apple of his cheek over and over again, and he suspected the skin to become red soon.

Bokuto’s eyelids opened, once, slowly, and although his chuckle didn’t reach the air outside of himself, it instead reverberated in his throat. “Spring showers,” he mused quietly, his voice still rough.

“I love you,” was all he said, his lips still against his cheek.

Bokuto’s eyes were half lidded and he blinked them sleepily. He closed them after a moment, and tightened his arms around Akaashi’s neck, moving to place his lips against another pair of softer ones. “It feels,” he spoke between kisses, “so _great_ to hear you say it.” He pressed his lips with an intensity that made Akaashi’s fingers tense around his hair. “Love you so much, ‘kaashi.”

Akaashi welcomed the ache in his chest this time, knowing it was one of affection instead of despair. He spoke.

 “I could never leave you.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wish I could write slow sleepy fluffy owls forever but :)))


	8. april 27th - may 4th

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you guys so much for your support. I've already said it about a million times but honestly it's the best feeling in the world to read your comments and see your kudos. Thank you all sososo much. 
> 
> Hopefully you guys enjoy this! (I cried writing this)

April 27th

“Are we going too fast?” Akaashi’s voice wavers over the phone, his elbows on the counter in his kitchen.

“Fast?” he hears his friend reply, along with the shrill sound of a whistle – a tea kettle, perhaps. “If you mean you did the deed, that doesn’t really matter. You can have sex without love and all that, y’know?” Kuroo replies simply, his voice slightly distant, and Akaashi can imagine his phone is most likely pinched between his cheek and shoulder.

“I’m aware, thanks.” He inaudibly sighs. “But what I mean is that-“

“ _Oh_.” Kuroo cuts off and there’s a sharp clicking of metal. “Ok. Well,” he pauses, turning the idea over, “In that case, I still think you’re fine. People go at their own paces and all. Some people date for years before saying it. If both of you are comfortable I don’t see the problem.”

“I’m comfortable,” Akaashi repeats, “I just-“ he groans and turns around, leaning back against the counter. “It just felt odd to say it. Like at the time, I mean. I meant it, obviously, but I felt like I wouldn’t have admitted it if it hadn’t slipped.”

Kuroo makes a noise similar to a snort and Akaashi huffs. “No, no that wasn’t for you.” Kuroo’s grin travels through the phone. “I mean it _was_ but it wasn’t _because_ of you. In high school, well, you remember how Kenma told you about how I asked him out for months before he finally agreed?”

“What of it?” He crosses a foot over his ankle, the cold wood creating goosebumps up his legs.

“I told him I loved him in October. Like, as in _three weeks_ of knowing him, and two months before he actually admitted he simply _liked_ me enough to go out. Unbelievable.” He chuckled through the phone.

“That actually helps a lot.” Akaashi remarks.

“I knew it would.” Kuroo’s voice raises to a teasing one, “Because the only way to build up the great Keiji is to push the poor, poor Tetsurou down.”

“You did this to yourself.” Akaashi rolls his eyes, and pushes off the counter and makes his way towards the table. He takes a seat, “But really, it did help.”

“Ah, no problem bro.” Kuroo says, and Akaashi rolls his eyes again at the name. It was a word that he insisted be saved for Bokuto and Daichi, but his sly friend, as usual, took no suggestions. “You want me to help even more? I love talking shit.”

“On yourself-?”

“Anyways,” he cuts off, “When you think about it, it’s, what, April? When did you meet him?”

“December.”

“Four months, then. Four months is plenty of time to fall in love, eh? I knew Kenma for three weeks, again. Like it wasn’t three weeks into dating, it was three weeks into _knowing_. Six years later we’re still here. You’re fine.”

“Okay,” he nodded, and repeated again, “Okay. You’re right. I’m overthinking it.”

“That, you are, bro.” Akaashi doesn’t reply, and hopefully his silence is enough to make Kuroo squirm. It is. “Uh, I mean, dude?” Nothing. “Akaashi, you’re a menace. Honestly now. Honestly.”

“Kuroo, you’re a fool.” He hangs up. Two minutes later he receives a picture of a poorly drawn figure with curly hair, wearing a cone shaped hat. The text reads, _Fuck you man, you’re the fool._

Akaashi grins and tosses his phone onto his couch before getting up to get something to eat.

 

May 3rd

“I dream about you a lot.” Bokuto declares one day as he helps Akaashi wipe down the tables and counters.

“Hm, really?” Akaashi replies absentmindedly, scrubbing a stubborn mark on the mahogany wood of the table.

“Really.” Bokuto replies. “Like, half the time I don’t even see your face. Sometime you’re not even in the actual dream, but you’re still in it. You know what I mean?” he stops for a moment to turn to him, and slightly frowns when he sees Akaashi still not facing him, vigorously rubbing the same spot. “Akaashi!”

“Sorry, sorry.” He apologizes and turns to him. “You were saying?”

Bokuto lifts his arms out in front of him and Akaashi stares at them for what seems like a minute before he understands and walks forward. He meets his arms and wraps his own around broad shoulders, with bones and skin he’s come to recognize. They’re silent, and Akaashi doubts the accuracy of how fast he counts the seconds. He feels like drifting off with the warmth of the body against him, and pushes his cheek against Bokuto’s left shoulder.

“Aa-aaa-kashi.” He sings softly, and sways their bodies lightly.

Akaashi smiles against the cotton shirt in front of his mouth. “Your dreams? You say you dream of me?”

“Oh yeah,” Bokuto hums, and Akaashi smiles wider, the tone of Bokuto’s voice giving off the similar sleepy one his own did. “I do. All the time. I was saying, like, I always feel that you’re there, because I noticed I usually wake up a little happier nowadays. It’s a weird sort of happy, too. It’s not the kind that you get when you tell a joke, I don’t really know what it is. I don’t know where I’m going with this.” He laughs sheepishly.

Akaashi pulls his left arm back slightly, his hand cupping the back of Bokuto’s neck. “I’m glad you dream of me.”

“Do you dream of me?” he asks, and pulls back to look at him, eyes wide.

“I don’t dream at all,” he admits, and detaches his arms. “You want to take a nap?” Bokuto blinks and watches the younger begin walking away. He turns again, “You coming, Bokuto?”

Bokuto freezes and stutters, “Y-yeah. What about the-?” he glances at the small towels on the table. “We weren’t done.”

Akaashi shrugs. “They’ll still be there later.” Bokuto smiles happily and catches up to him, and grabs Akaashi’s smaller hand.

He jumps onto the bed, face first, his face buried underneath pillows. He hugs one, pressing it into his face as he waits for Akaashi to get settled in, and he notices it smells like him.

“Have I ever told you you’re really pretty, Akaashi?” he asks, his words muffled as only his eyes peek out.

Akaashi is lying next to him, on his stomach as well. He rests his head on his folded arms. “Yes, twelve times.”

“Oh? Really?”

“Yes, Bokuto.”

“Thirteen, then.”

“I’ve already counted right now as one of the twelve.”

Bokuto laughs and softly tugs at one of his elbows. Akaashi unfolds his arm and lets Bokuto play with his fingers. “You’re just really pretty.”

“Thirteen?” Akaashi wonders aloud, “Or is it still twelve because it’s the same conversation?”

“Like your eyes are narrow and intense but soft at the same time,” Bokuto looks at him, and Akaashi refuses to look back at him. “And your hands are so-“

“Delicate,” Akaashi recites, “Because they’re smaller and thinner than yours, and my fingers seem especially long and elegant.”

Bokuto lets out a giggle again. “I think it counts as thirteen.”

Akaashi finally smiles back and manages to stammer, “You’re very pretty too, Bokuto.”

“No, no, not pretty.” Bokuto shakes his head a minimal amount, and Akaashi smiles wider at how his cheeks seem to flush.

“Very pretty.” Akaashi insists. He questions if Bokuto compliments him because of his reaction; Akaashi himself concludes he loves doing so to see Bokuto flustered, as usually confident as he is.

“Dunno.” Bokuto chirps. “I just feel like telling you, sometimes.”

Akaashi blinks, “O-oh. Okay.” He supposed the words slipped.

There’s the soft sound of fabric brushing against fabric, and Akaashi feels Bokuto lift his leg to entangle his own. “This was the shirt I gave you a couple of weeks ago, huh?” Bokuto realizes, eyeing the black stitching he used to wear on himself. Akaashi closes his eyes and hums as confirmation.

“Why did you suddenly get so sleepy?” he asks.

Akaashi musters out the energy to speak once more, “Hugging you was relaxing.” He hears him shift some more, and feels a tugging on his shirt.

He inwardly groans but opens his eyes anyways. Bokuto is on his back now, and taps his chest lightly with two fingers. Akaashi barely lifts himself up and over to place his head on his chest, the thudding of his heart immediate.

Minutes later, Bokuto teases, “Good night.” Yet his voice sounds distant and slow as well.

“Good afternoon,” he lazily corrects.

“Good evening.”

“Evening.” He agrees softly.

As he closes his eyes shut again, Bokuto says hesitantly, “Love you.”

The smile on his face doesn’t drag or require effort through his sleepiness, “Love you.”

 

May 4th

“Holy shit, Akaashi, it’s six in the morning.” Is the first thing he awakes to.

He groans instantly, “Too early.” Bokuto feels his warm breath fan up to his neck.

“We’ve been sleeping for more than twelve hours!” he cries, and Akaashi hears him slap his own forehead in disappointment.

“Doesn’t matter,” he sighs, “I can’t wake up before eight. I just can’t.”

Bokuto rolls his eyes, “Crybaby.” He pushes Akaashi off him, and a small chuckle builds up in his chest as Bokuto attempts to do it roughly, but ends up patting his hair and lifting the blanket higher.

“Are you going home?” Akaashi asks suddenly, his face still buried in the spot Bokuto was once in.

“Hm? No, no. I’ll make breakfast or something. Something fancy!” there’s a grin a to his voice, “And I’ll wake you up after eight and everything!”

“I knew I loved you.” His voice is muffled.

He huffs and reaches to pull one of Akaashi’s socks off. He grins when his leg immediately retracts under the covers from the cold. Tossing it onto the bed again, he laughs as he realizes his boyfriend is already knocked out.

…

Bokuto leaves at noon, and Akaashi feels his face warm up at how tight the hug is when he says goodbye. Although he told Akaashi that he had a class in a few hours, and was supposed to leave last night instead of that afternoon, there was no rush or strong concern in his voice.

He found himself thinking about it as he washed the dishes, the highs and lows of his tone repeating themselves in his mind. He sighed, and grimaced at the loud, echoing clink of a ceramic plate being dropped onto another. He found the reason he was so hung up on it was because he knew he was unable to do it himself, and then found himself soon moving on to the topic of why.

He didn’t recall ever being this antsy and nitpicky towards classes in high school – he only ever felt adrenaline on the court. His time in the classroom was hardly memorable, all of the days fading and overlapping into only one significant memory. Ever since he started volleyball when he was sixteen, he remembered every single game he had played, every single opponent, name, and winner. Each memory stood its own, and he supposed it was why he enjoyed recalling them so often.

If he had to describe his life now, he supposed it was in between the two. Although it was nowhere near as exhilarating as the sport, he found himself being much more interested than his classes in high school. Maybe it was the challenge?

He thought about it. When he had first started volleyball, he wouldn’t have said he had particularly enjoyed it. At first, it was frustrating, all of his thoughts filled with Oikawa smirking at him, and him hardly ever playing in real games since he was the official setter. After a while, though, he guessed it was because of his unapparent but still present competitiveness that made him strive to become better.

Eventually, his seeming talent for setting wasn’t unnoticed anymore, even by Oikawa himself, who although didn’t show as much enthusiasm as the rest, welcomed it and offered to teach him more. He concluded that it was most likely Oikawa that sparked the actual realization that he genuinely enjoyed volleyball.

He remembered the jolt of nerves through his fingertips when the coach called him over halfway through a match, and gave him the small piece of plastic with the number one on it. As Oikawa had walked over, his hand touching his as he received the small square, he looked at him, with no malice or any sort of anger in his eyes, and told him simply, “We believe in you.”

He had been taken out momentarily because that match had been against Karasuno, and Oikawa’s nerves were skyrocketing. They had played against them once before, and although he was on edge, even Akaashi could see the small signs of true dismay and evidence of how unfocused he was, constantly glancing at Kageyama, his tosses too strong, too inaccurate, his serves become increasingly sloppy. Although he had only taken his place for a what seemed like a mere five minutes, it was enough for him to connect the team after them having to hold their own guard with the unsteady captain.

Oikawa came up to him after the lost match, and told him with an almost trembling smile, voice bitter and quiet, “Next year, when you’re captain, you can’t afford to do what I did. Even for a minute.” He had shaken his head and laughed a little, “You won’t have another setter to fall back on.” He added, “As annoying as you are, Keiji-chan.”

He considered himself close to Oikawa, and found himself admiring him on and off the court; thankfully, he was much more mellow now, his eyes never intense outside of games.

Oikawa, he noticed, was never too tense about anything either. Now that he thought of it, none of his friends were. Kenma had trouble speaking to new people, but he was never uncomfortable in classrooms as he was.

He briefly sighed and stood up, tired of thinking of questions he couldn’t answer. He changed his clothes, grabbed a thin coat and his wallet, and walked out of his apartment.

Akaashi wouldn’t consider himself too outwardly sentimental, but he knew how to show signs of affection, even if they were small. After evoking his memories of his high school days, he remembered the current tension between the previously mention captain and ace. The few times he had seen Oikawa these past weeks were brief – small talk as he waited for Kuroo so they could go somewhere, or running into him at stores and such.

He didn’t bring up his problem with his boyfriend; how could he? The attributes of leadership were ones that Oikawa had through his veins. He was used to people relying on him, and although he flourished at working together, he could never completely trust others, except for Iwaizumi himself. He experienced this at levels far higher than anyone else in their group of friends; even Iwaizumi, for he was, again, trusted, and was almost unaware of the small distance between Oikawa and most other people.

He arrived at Kuroo’s apartment fifteen minutes later, and was unaware of what specifically he was going to say, but had a gist of what he wanted to talk about.

He knocked on the door and took a step back. Kuroo had three classes that day, so he shouldn’t be home, however, whether or not Oikawa was home as well was unknown.

Luckily, he was there, and had opened the door slowly, revealing his face with eyes still focused on something else. He turned to him a second later, and smiled, “Akaash-chan.”

“Akaash-chan? New,” he smiled back. “Watching a show?”

“The Walking Dead.” He grinned. “Oh! Come in, come in.”

Akaashi softly chuckled as he followed Oikawa down the small hallway to the living room, eyeing the dark blue socks with planets on them. “Have you seen the X-Files?”

“Have I seen the X-Files,” Oikawa scoffed, “Of course. Don’t underestimate me.”

Akaashi laughed, and sat down on a cushioned chair. The apartment had an unusual silence to it, despite the low talking on the screen. Oikawa look at him expectedly, his glasses holding a small glint to them from the lights above them.

“So. What happened now?” Oikawa raises his hands up in front of him, and then motions towards himself, “Does my poor son need a hug?”

Akaashi smiles a little, but asks, “Nothing happened, why would you ask?”

Oikawa shrugs and hums to himself as he leans forward to grab a bag of gummy bears on the table, “No reason. Well,” he feigns a sigh, “Except for the fact that you only ever talk to me when you need some advice from your senpai.”

“Oh,” Akaashi frowns, and looks at Oikawa’s happy face, although not necessarily smiling, his eyes were wide and bright as he chewed exaggeratedly. He says softly, “I’m sorry you feel that way.”

Oikawa’s eyes slightly narrow, but with interest rather than deceit. “I’m glad we’re friends, Keiji. Is something wrong, though? You seem quite guilty. It doesn’t suit your facial structure.”

“No, nothing, really. Bokuto and I are fine. It’s just that I-“ he pauses. “Forgive me, Oikawa-san, if I come off as rude. Are you okay?”

Oikawa’s head tilts to the left, and the tilt of his glasses is almost nonexistent, only revealed by the slight movement of the glare. He looks at his hands. “I see.”

There’s a silence, and he continues a beat later, “I’m fine. I’m fine. At least now. I was really upset at first, but I think I’m alright at the moment.” His voice is thin, and Akaashi feels as though it’s on the verge of snapping.

“At first?” Akaashi blinks, “Wait. Did-“

“We broke up.” Oikawa still doesn’t meet his eyes. “Almost two weeks ago.”

“…I’m sorry. I didn’t know.” Akaashi says pathetically, caught off guard by the new information. Why hadn’t Kuroo told him this? Akaashi looks at him, “Are you happy?” he rephrases.

“Happy?” Oikawa shifts his legs and folds one under himself, “I don’t think it’s possible for one to be happy after only a few weeks, Keiji-chan.” His voice is soft and brisk. “But I will be, eventually.”

“Do you really believe that?” Akaashi’s fingers tighten around the sleeve of his jacket.

“I believe it, sure.” Oikawa says, “But of course, I’ll never really know.”

“Do you miss him?”

His friend sighs and takes off his glasses. He reaches over to the remote and pauses the show. “Of course I do. He was my best friend.” His voice his monotone, and Akaashi knows it’s to keep it from breaking. “Why are you asking me these questions, Keiji-chan?” he lets out a bitter laugh, and Akaashi feels a numbing sensation up his spine.

His voice was the same as the day they had lost the last game Oikawa would play. It was the same voice he spoke in when he congratulated Karasuno, and told Kageyama that he had finally beaten him. It was the same voice he overheard him speak in to Iwaizumi before sobs began ripping from his throat.

He repeats his words, “Because we’re friends. Is something wrong?”

He watches as a look of agony strikes across Oikawa’s face, and his lips curl into his mouth as he bites on them. He drops his head down into his hands and takes a loud breath, his exhale coming out soft and broken. Akaashi thinks he’s crying, and begins to shift his weight to get up and walk to him, but he looks back up a second later, although not crying, his cheeks are red, and his eyes are glazed over. “I wish we could still be friends, at least.” His voice is in anguish.

“You are, I’m sure of it.” Akaashi softens his voice. “You’re soulmates.”

“Please,” he shakes his head, “Don’t say that. Not right now.”

He lets Oikawa catch his breath, and even through seeing his ever-growing confidence become shattered, he can’t find it in himself to feel any sort of pity; he admires him now, more than ever. He’s never witnessed his emotions so unkempt, his voice so raw, and Akaashi esteems him when he figures it’s because he’s only ever put his trust in Iwaizumi, who has served as the cause and effect of his distress.

“Is this why you came here?” Oikawa asks quietly, his voice muffled in itself as he fingers the plastic bag, its wrinkles creating soft sounds.

“Yeah,” Akaashi sighs. “But if you don’t want to talk, it’s fine. I could just watch your show with you, or I could leave. Whatever you want.”

Oikawa gives him a gloomy smile, and holds his arms out in a way that reminds of him Bokuto, “I need a hug from my son.”

He shifts over to the couch, and allows his friend to hug him, and rubs his back when he hears him sniffle, although it was so quiet he wasn’t sure if he was simply imagining it. “Oikawa-san?” he asks. “Why am I your son?”

Oikawa laughs, and his voice is distorted as he speaks with his cheek against Akaashi’s shoulder, “Isn’t it just fitting, Keiji-chan? Because I was a setter and a captain, and then you were a setter and a captain. You’re not very ugly, either, which obviously proves you could be my son _somehow_.” He pulls away, and his eyes are puffy, Akaashi notices, and then draw his attention to how his shirt is somewhat damp.

He wants to point it out, but Oikawa’s eyes are a notch brighter than before, so he allows him to continue talking. “I’ve actually thought about this a lot.” He grins, and sticks his tongue out before he gets up, “Let me get something!”

There’s stifled footsteps as he steps across the carpeted floor to his room, Akaashi assumes, and returns a minute later with a binder and notebook in his hand.

“Look, look.” He plops back down onto the couch, his weight shifting it before it evens out again. He opens up the binder first, and a smile creeps up on his face as he realizes it’s a scrapbook.

He thumbs through it, and grins a little more as he realizes each page is dedicated to each member of Seijou. He feels a slight tug in his chest as he looks at each picture, the most recent date he could find being more than five years ago. He wouldn’t doubt Oikawa still talked to the other two in his year, but he never made it a priority to talk to those in his own year. He considers it, and tells himself to call them sometime as he looks at a picture of their team.

His gaze locks on the page that is filled with pictures of mainly him with the team. He points at one in particular and asks, “How come this one is on my page?”

Oikawa leans over slightly to look at it and laughs, “Because! Even though it’s of Mattsun and I, you can see your thumb right there since you were taking it.” He points to the right corner, and there’s barely a visible blur of what Akaashi assumes is his thumb. He snorts and Oikawa laughs again. He begins looking through it again, and Oikawa softly hums a song he doesn’t recognize.

He can’t help the guilty smile that spreads across his face at one of the photos from one of their training camp trips. Oikawa notices him staring and he smiles as well, “Bet you don’t remember Koutarou-chan being there, huh?”

He shakes his head slowly, and touches the photo with his hand as he studies it. “Koutarou.” He repeats his name softly. “I really don’t remember this.” He admits, “And it’s weird. I thought I remembered all the teams. You’d think being in a match with one of the state’s top five spikers would stick as well.”

“I don’t think we ever played against them.” Oikawa offers after a moment. “Usually we just participated with the Tokyo teams in the camps, but I think this specific one was almost three time bigger. You remember that one?”

“Yes,” he nods, recalling it, “The really brief one.”

“Only three days.” Oikawa nodded, before grinning, “Karasuno wasn’t invited. Ha!”

Akaashi smiles again and looks back down. Oikawa continues humming. He turns one page and tries to quickly but naturally turn the page again after his eyes land on one of Oikawa and Iwaizumi, with Oikawa pinching his nose and Iwaizumi pinching his cheek. He glances at Oikawa and purses his lips when he sees he’s turned away, most likely having noticed the pictures despite his attempt to skip over them.

“Um.” Akaashi softly closes the binder and places it on the table in front of them. He asks, “What’s in the notebook?”

Oikawa slightly jumps at the sound of his voice and turns to him, “O-oh. Here, look.” He hands it to him before putting his glasses back on.

Akaashi opens it, and notices the fading of the blue lines and the crumples of the edges of the paper, like it’s been wet and dried. There are loose pencil strokes, and occasional doodles of flowers, or volleyballs, or anything astronomical that Akaashi can think of. Each page has a person’s name on the top, and he finds it similar to that of the scrapbook’s.

Oikawa begins explaining, “I just get bored a lot, I guess. I always want to do things with people, but I hate it whenever things aren’t planned.” He pauses to roll his eyes, “It’s just chaotic and gross. Anyways, whenever I see things that are cool, I usually think of people that would enjoy them, so then I write it down as possible things to do with them. Look at your page!”

He grabs the notebook and tilts it towards himself, thumbing through the pages quickly. “Ah!” he exclaims, “Here, here!” he turns it back to face Akaashi, and he reads over the places slowly.

_The Astronomical Museum, Chisso Ice Cream, Ereganto Hair, Binteji Books, Hea Products, Gokana, Midori Sushi, Purple Pottery, Tokyo Art Mueseum, Kanto Chocolate, The Anato Lab, Lush, Okayama Candles, Tottori Gardens –_

There were two small pictures on the bottom of the page, of maps with a red dot on each, most likely representing two of the destinations.

“I’ve never heard of half of these places.” He admits, “But they sound lovely. I see why you picked them for me,” he smiles again.

Oikawa nods happily, “Yeah, look, a hair salon, product store, a candle store, and cosmetics, because you’re pretty, and nitrogen ice cream and chocolate because you have a sweet tooth, a pretty bookstore, art museum and garden, because, well,” he raises his eyebrows, “aesthetics. And a pottery place because oddly enough, they only allow you to paint their ceramics with purple. It seemed like a good idea when I walked past it once, because at the time you hadn’t met Koutarou-chan yet.”

He stares at the page longer, although he is not reading it, and smiles, “You’re a wonderful person, Oikawa-san.”

He can tell he’s stunned with his silence, but smiles a small bit when Oikawa murmurs slowly, “I am, hm?”

He squeezes his shoulder and just agrees, “You are.”

Oikawa is silent again. Akaashi is looking at the notebook, and minutes later looks back up. Oikawa’s face is slightly turned away, faced towards the television. However, there’s a sinking in Akaashi’s gut when he notices the rise of his shoulders. Akaashi leans forward to look at his face.

“Oikawa-san?” his eyes widen in concern when he sees the dewiness of his flushed cheeks. “Are you-?” he pauses, before instead squeezing his shoulder again, and deciding to simply mumble, “It’s alright.”

A sob erupts from his mouth and his eyes fall to the floor as his vision goes blurry. He hiccups, like his grief had just been made at the words uttered instead of the seas of thoughts he’s allowed himself to drown in on his own. He tries to control his breathing, and his voice is rough, “No, I shouldn’t be doing this. I’m so-“

“It’s alright.” He repeats, firmer, but his voice is still soft, “Everything and anything is okay. You can cry.”

He looks at Akaashi, his vision hazy, and wonders how miserable he must look for him to give him that sort of pitiful look. The thought only flashes across his mind, however, before there’s a dull, heavy, throb in his chest, like he’s drowning, like his own body is collapsing on him as he’s only able to barely muster out cries.

His voice cracks as he looks at the wall across from them, “It _hurts._ ” He finally admits to himself. He raises both hands to wipe at his eyes, but moments later puts them back down as he finds himself bellowing even more. He coughs a little, and his pale skin is red, and he cups his hand over his mouth before he squeezes his eyes shut, as if he’s just realized something.

“My best friend is gone,” his voice is muffled and choked, and his coughs are heavier, but he can make out the syllables, “My Hajime _._ ”

“Tooru,” Akaashi sighs, and pulls his arms around his shoulder and hugs him, tries to distract him from any sort of pain or memories that are sparking the ache in his chest.

He doesn’t know what happened that made him think of Iwaizumi again, doesn’t know why everything seemed to hit him so hard.

He begins to stammer, his voice obstructed as if his throat was closing up, “What did I do wrong?” He looks at Akaashi, as if he’s _begging_ for an answer, just one specific reason so that he’ll have the luxury of burrowing his sorrows on something other than himself.

“You didn’t do anything wrong.” He pulls him to his shoulder, and trails his hand across his shoulder blades again as Oikawa continues murmuring pathetically in his raw voice.

He lets out sound that’s similar to a laugh, but it’s breath and rhythm is hollow and haunting, “I believe I’ll be better someday,” he begins, and sniffs, his breath still somewhat erratic, “But I don’t want to.” His voice shatters again as he tries to explain, “I don’t want to be better without him. I don’t want to be without him at all.” He coughs. “I-I want to do things I wouldn’t do without him. I’d just-“ Akaashi feels his chest waver against his own, and murmurs soft comforts as he finishes, “I’d just do anything. I’d do anything for him.”

Akaashi wants to comfort him, but Oikawa is rambling, trying to elucidate everything messily and sporadically, his breath, words, and syllables blending into one another as he tries to stop the wetness on Akaashi’s shirt from growing.

“I think about him all the time.” His voice is calmer, now, but the eloquence in it sharpens the pain, “About how different everything is now. I’ll never look at things the same anymore.”

“Don’t say that.” Akaashi murmurs, “It’s fine for it to hurt. But don’t draw anything permanent from a low in your life.”

“You don’t understand,” is all he can say. “I see him everywhere. In everything, Keiji. He has a shirt like the one you’re wearing. He has the same headphones as Kuroo. The curtains are the same color of his bedsheets. The café across the street sells his favorite tea. The radios in the cars play his favorite songs. The pictures in my wallet match the ones that should be in his.” He presses his face harder into Akaashi’s shoulder as he says this, and Akaashi doesn’t know how else to react but by wrapping his arms tighter.

Oikawa continues in his pain, although his tears fade from his cheeks eventually. Akaashi notices the way he seems embarrassed, the way his eyes dart around the room, and wonders if he’s doing that to forget or remember him. The mood doesn’t lift from the apartment, and the two don’t speak. He allows Oikawa to think to himself, his posture recovered, although he still twists up every so often, and Akaashi comforts him again.

Their heads turn to the sound of the door unlocking, and there are steps. Kuroo comes in, with a relaxed smile on his face as he meets Akaashi’s eyes, but it falls as he looks at Oikawa. Oikawa looks away, clearly even more conscious, and tenses up seconds later. Kuroo hugs him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tooru my baby


	9. may 4th - may 5th

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> may 4th is the longest day ever omg...this is the first time a single day took up practically two chapters..
> 
> And omg guys your comments! They make me smile but they also make me sorta upset too ...because ....tooru ...Thankfully Oikawa gets his shit together more or less here so! Hope you all enjoy it! <3

May 4th

“Oya? Oikawa’s upset?” his voice was teasing, but warm. He slung an arm around Oikawa’s shoulders and squeezed one of them. “Akaashi broke you, eh?” his voice was low, as he was still aware of the other’s sensitivity at the moment.

“Broke him?” Akaashi asked. His voice wasn’t significantly lower; his was constantly soft anyways.

“Mhm,” Kuroo nodded, “This loser over here kept his mouth shut for over a week, ever since he came in one day and announced, ‘I broke up with Iwaizumi!’ and left to his room.” He turned to the sniffling friend, his voice lowering again, “I’ve been trying to talk to you, you know.”

Oikawa’s chest heaved, and he mumbled, “I know, I know, Tetsu-chan.”

“Well, I hope Akaashi did a good job, then. Helping you, I mean.”

His face shows a small pout, his cheeks still dewy, “There’s nothing to be helped. I just have to accept it.” He lets out a huff, and runs his hand over his eyes, slowly, firmly, suggesting it’d be the last time he was to do so.

Akaashi watches Oikawa breathe calmly, his eyebrows furrowed in what would seem like anger if it weren’t for the determination in his voice.

Oikawa takes a breath, and reaches over to snatch the notebook from the table. He flips through it, and says, “This is your page.”

“Mine?” Kuroo slightly leans over, and reads his name at the top. “What is this?”

Akaashi, sensing Oikawa’s dismay in having to speak again, explains, “When he sees a place that reminds him of one of his friends, he marks it down in a list.”

“Oh.” Kuroo says simply, eyes scanning over as the idea runs through his mind, “ _Oh._ ” He realizes, “Woah. This is pretty good.” His lips turn into a smile as he pulls the notebook onto his own lap. He grins, “Aw, would you look at that? Oikawa knows me so well.” He lightly tugs on one of Oikawa’s curls and the latter gently swats the hand away.

“Geez, shut up.” He rolls his eyes, and he allows a small smile to form on his face. He places his index finger on the page, slowly dragging his hand down it until it stops. “These three. Both of them are on your’s and Keiji’s list. Could we go to one of them?”

“Please not the ice cream shop.” Akaashi grimaces. “I’ve had enough.”

“It’s nitrogen ice cream.” Oikawa’s voice softly sings, his mood slightly increasing by the second.

‘How about the pottery place?” Kuroo suggests, raising his eyebrows, his finger tapping on the name three times. “Seems relaxing.”

“Oh~,” he chimes, his voice almost back to its usual enthusiasm, “Yeah, let’s go to it, then? Keiji-chan?”

“I suppose we could.” Akaashi shrugs, “I’ve nothing else to do.”

“Me neither.” Kuroo nods, “I mean, I do have another class, but,” he checks his watch swiftly, “There’s about half an hour left. Whatever.”

“You ditched?” Oikawa blinks, his eyes still puffy, but dry nonetheless.

“Eh, who doesn’t every once in a while?”

“Me,” Akaashi and Oikawa raise an eyebrow as they answer simultaneously.

“Oh god, that doesn’t count. You two are perfectionists. It drives me insane.”

“I’m not a perfectionist. I’m perfection itself.” Oikawa sticks his tongue out, and as he laughs softly, Kuroo and Akaashi share a quick glance, smiles forming.

Kuroo fully grins, “What a loser.”

…………………………………………

Akaashi doesn’t know much of the relationship between Kuroo and Oikawa. He isn’t sure if the act they put on of constantly pushing buttons is just their way of bonding, or if there’s true tension between the two almost constantly. He isn’t sure if they act the way they do around him when they’re alone. He isn’t sure if Oikawa is as polite, or if he’s hostile, like the way he treats people he believes are threats. He isn’t sure if Kuroo is as kind, or if he shows his cynical side.

He isn’t sure of almost everything when it came to the two of them, so it made the corners of his lips turn up whenever the scene of Kuroo hugging him flashed in his mind.  They were on their way to the pottery shop, and the ride was held in a silence that was more comfortable than he’d imagine. He would say he was rather proud of the two of them for becoming seemingly close friends, as their relationship until recently could be described with clenched jaws and narrowed eyes.

Other than Bokuto, of course, he’d consider the two of them his closest and most trusted of his friends. They were similar, in a way, and Akaashi supposed he was similar to them as well. Noya had once told Akaashi that he seemed passive aggressive, with his pointed eyes and his sharp tongue, but also told him that what threw it off most of the time was his etiquette, and the natural blush of his cheeks, and the way he laced his fingers behind his back.

He could say the same applied to the two of them more or less; everything about Kuroo looked like trouble. His appearance was similar to tall, dark and handsome, but the way the stride of his legs issued malice and the way his grin would shine made it seem like he just committed murder. His hair offered no help, either. While it may seem to some that it was messy due to more intense actions, in all reality Akaashi knew that the only reason it was as wild as it was because Kuroo rolled around in his sleep too much for his own good. He was similar to a cat in that sense, and he stifled a laugh as he remembered a story Kenma once told him of when he almost crushed him while they were napping.

Kuroo, in short, was one of the lamest people Akaashi had ever met. He wouldn’t be such a victim to the description if his appearance wasn’t the stark opposite of his personality, but unfortunately, it was. Akaashi, oddly enough, had a vivid memory of every single pattern of boxer Kuroo owned, as every time he stopped by to visit he would open the door in a different pair. Batman, kittens, flowers, polka dots, dolphins, emojis, planets, crowns, and his favorite – one with avocados on it. Why Kuroo was so attached to it, he would never find out.

There was always something to clean up when Kuroo was around, there was always some point in the night when Kuroo would let out a squeak followed by a crash. The back of his neck was always red with how many times he would rub it in embarrassment. He was the type of person that used Oikawa’s expensive shampoo and would terribly hide the evidence. He’d try to tuck someone in but would instead set them up for the hardest trap to get out of in the morning. He was terrible at cooking, terrible at drawing, but could pick up a pen and use every word possible to explain how much he admired someone else’s work.

His snores sounded like soft purrs, and his hands were soft but his elbows were always too dry. He hated stubble or any sort of facial hair, and once Akaashi witnessed him shudder when he picked up a knife to slice a vegetable.

“ _What was that about?”_

_“Hm?”_

_“You seemed scared for a second.”_

_“Well, knives scare me, Akaashi. They scare me more than mushrooms.” His voice was offended._

Akaashi had told him it was perfectly healthy to feel more threatened by a knife than a mushroom.

He smiled a bit at the memory, and Kuroo pointed it out as they made a turn onto a different street. “I’m just thinking about your precious avocado boxers.” Was his reply.

“Oh, really? Man, good choice, good choice. They’re the best.”

Akaashi was never too sure why the label of sin was always stuck onto the man.

Oikawa let out a small laugh at this, and Akaashi smiled again.

Oikawa’s situation was somewhat different. When one looked at him, there was no blemish on him inside and out. He was well liked, was generously admired, and seemed to have an afterglow of satisfaction for his life. His presence was like a filter; anyone that touched him seemed to leave better than before they knew him.

But Akaashi was one of the few people that knew Oikawa wasn’t blessed, or wasn’t a god. Too many people only saw Oikawa from afar, their vision of him blurry with how bright he seemed to shine. Too many people, in Akaashi’s opinion, liked Oikawa due to his profile and first impression, liked him for the idea of knowing someone so seemingly perfect, instead of liking him despite the fact that he wasn’t.

Akaashi was close enough to Oikawa to see how clear his work was. He could see the wires and cords that provided the electricity to his shine in the red and blue veins under his skin, popping and clenching when he worked himself to the bone. He saw the bruising knuckles and the bad knee, and how the concealer he put on under his eyes sometimes faded, and the shadow of his bags sunk into and above his cheeks.

Akaashi knew people always put Oikawa up on a pedestal, and it saddened him because he also knew how Oikawa had a fear of heights.

Akaashi blinked twice when the car slightly rocked forward.

“Woops, sorry.” Kuroo apologized and backed up a bit. “I hit the parking stall.”

He hadn’t even noticed they had arrived, and blinked again before his mind began fully focusing on the activity at hand.

They walk in moments later, the small door hitting a bell, a soft jingling piercing the air.

“Smells like paint in here,” he nods in conformation.

“We never said it didn’t?” Kuroo blinks.

“I know, I know. Was just saying, is all.” He rolls his eyes, and Kuroo pinches his ear, longer this time, until Akaashi makes a noise of discomfort and attempts to tug it off.

“ _Ow?_ ” he mutters flatly as glares at his friend, who grins, his fingers still squeezing. He huffs as he tries to tug it, but sucks in a sharp breath as it only makes him pull on it.

“Testu-chan,” Oikawa blinks seemingly innocently, before repeating the action to Kuroo.

“ _Shit!”_ he curses, letting go of Akaashi and cupping his own ear. He shakes his head and grins, “Your nails, Oikawa, lord.”

He shrugs, “I let them grow out a _little_ bit. Can’t paint them if they’re too short.”

“I don’t need to hear about your nail polish collection right now. _Again_.” Oikawa rolls his eyes, and Akaashi takes the opportunity to head up to the counter and pay for everything.

Fifteen minutes later Oikawa is barking at Kuroo to _please, Tetsu, shut up for two seconds,_ while Kuroo blatantly ignores him, hissing at his paintbrush, _you little shit, honestly? Stop making fat strokes,_ and Akaashi resembles a babysitter to the outside world, calmly painting an owl figurine as he allows them to sort their own problems.

“Could you pass the violet?” Akaashi asks, his eyes still on his project.

“Uh?” Kuroo blinks. “They’re all violet.”

“No, they’re not. I’m using lilac, Oikawa’s using iris, you’re using mauve. I need the violet.”

Kuroo huffs, and hovers his hand over several pots of paint until Akaashi nods, and then proceeds in handing it over. “You, know, you’d think that since you were colorblind till about six months ago, you wouldn’t be so educated in shades.”

Akaashi shrugs, “It’s useful. For my art, I guess.”

“Hey,” Oikawa looks up, softly swaying his brush into clear water, “Isn’t violet the color you used to see? I mean, the only one.” Akaashi nods, and Oikawa raises his eyebrows and smirks, “Ah, I see.”

“You see?”

“Yes,” he nods matter of factly.

“Oh,” Kuroo smiles a little, realizing as well, “How nice, bro.”

“Fool.” Akaashi gives him a disgusted look, his tone mimicking the same one he used almost a week over the phone.

Kuroo laughs, “Sorry, sorry. _Akaashi._ _Keiji-chan._ Whichever you prefer.”

He shakes his head, and turns back to Oikawa, “Now then. What were you saying?”

He shrugs and replies simply, “That you were making that for Koutarou-chan.”

His eyes dart to his hands and he blinks at the owl, before he looks up and tries to hide his embarrassment, especially since the whole thing was a coincidence – but he knew them too well to know they wouldn’t believe it. He musters out, “Whatever.”

“Young love.” Kuroo hums.

Akaashi tries to subtly kick Kuroo, as he seemed to have forgotten Oikawa’s recent problem, but pales when Oikawa squeaks, “Ouch!”

“…Yikes.” He says monotonously, and reaches over to gently pat Oikawa’s hand. “Sorry.”

Oikawa fakes a glare, “Whatever, dweeb!” he huffs, “The nerve of you, Keiji-chan, doing that to your best friend. I should’ve known.”

“So you thought you were best friends with a dweeb? Nice,” Kuroo nods.

Oikawa mumbles what Akaashi assumes is curses, before he inwardly groans as the sight of the brunette grinning at Kuroo. “Wow, Testu-chan. I hadn’t noticed your choice in ceramics, before. I’m guessing you’re going to give that to your little kitten?”

Kuroo is oblivious, and instead grins proudly, “Didn’t know I mentioned that to you guys. The kitten thing, I mean.”

“ _Oh my god,_ ” Oikawa snorts, “I knew it, actually. If you skipped out on that nickname with that kid’s eyes,” he shakes his head and snickers, “Shame.”

Akaashi eyes Oikawa as he continues to banter with Kuroo animatedly, and wonders how he suddenly seems to be coping with his emotions so well, especially since it’s been only half an hour since they were at the apartment. _He even casually brings up other relationships_ , he notices, but shakes the thought away, deciding it isn’t something to worry about. It’s a good thing, after all.

They finish another twenty minutes later, and Kuroo mutters in annoyance when he learns they must come pick everything up in a few days.

“Shut up, Tetsurou.” Oikawa has on a sarcastic smile, his lips twitching in annoyance, “You keep on repeating the same sentence over and over.”

“It’s ridiculous!”

“It’s how it works,” Akaashi intervenes, a bit annoyed at how he must take slightly quicker steps since his legs, as long as they are, are still the shortest amongst the three.

“I’m not gonna let this go.” He growls.

“You don’t have to. Just shut up.” Akaashi scowls.

He huffs, “Brokuto wouldn’t treat me like this.”

Oikawa snorts as they finally reach Kuroo’s car, which was stationed in the parking complex a few minutes away from the store.

“Brokuto would, if I was there.” Akaashi says firmly, then grimaces at the name.

Kuroo cackles as he tries to fish his keys out of his pockets, only to drop them twice in a row. “Bro,” he sings, as he finally unlocks the car, and Akaashi again grimaces, but it’s due to the loud echoing of the car beep through the cemented walls around them.

Akaashi sits next to Kuroo, and Oikawa sits in the back, his legs long enough so that his knees dig into both of their seats.

Kuroo backs up and out, and they continue on their way back. Kuroo asks if Akaashi wants to be dropped off directly to his apartment, and he accepts.

Oikawa’s voice intrudes, “Ah, Keiji? Could I sleep over?”

Kuroo’s head slightly turns to the right his eyes, glancing over to Akaashi briefly as he listens.

Akaashi looks back at his friend, before turning a bit more to look at Oikawa, who is somewhat leaning forward eagerly. He can’t help but notice how his voice trails off the edge of desperation.

“I don’t mind,” Akaashi finally says, and he sees his friend’s brown eyes close in slight relief.

His voice perks up as he smiles, “Thank you!”

He returns the smile and nods, but once he faces forward, he catches sight of the look of dismay on Kuroo’s face. He mouths, not turning his head towards Akaashi whatsoever, _I’ll text you._ He gives the slightest nod of his head.

The rest of the ride is silent, and what concerns Akaashi the most is how Oikawa is no longer even trying to conceal his ruins. The silence hangs over them, screaming at volumes only their skin and bones can feel. The soft roar of the engine roars below them, and Akaashi’s eyes dart towards the sky.

Their conversation was not over, he knew. Last time Oikawa came over, it was to offer him a hand in advice. This time, it was to request a shoulder to cry on. There was a weight in his chest, knowing the responsibility of healing his friend was unavoidable. It wasn’t unpleasant; it made him feel worse to be aware of Oikawa’s inner destruction than to simply be there when needed.

He wondered if Kuroo felt offended in any way, or baffled at the thought of why Oikawa was seemingly persistent in trying to talk to Akaashi alone. There was no tension between the two – none that lasted more than a minute, anyways – but Akaashi felt a vibe that was more similar to confusion than anything. Kuroo said he’d text him, so he tried not to be overly concerned for possible petty emotions.

Akaashi blinks at Kuroo as they pass by his street and Kuroo briefly meets his eyes. “Oikawa needs some clothes, remember?”

Oikawa hums almost inaudibly in agreement and Akaashi mumbles, “Forgot.”

Another five minutes and Akaashi and Kuroo are waiting in the parking lot as Oikawa heads out to pack for a night.

“What are you thinking?” Akaashi asks a bit off handedly, his eyes elsewhere as he makes sure Oikawa has entered the building before speaking.

“I’m thinking he’s trying to make a goddamn move on you, is what I’m thinking, Akaashi.” He hisses, turning his body to face him completely.

“A-A _move?_ ” Akaashi finds himself glowering, “Don’t be stupid.”

Kuroo shakes his head and tries to rephrase it, “I’m not saying he has feelings or whatever bullshit. I’m saying that he’s trying to use you for a night to try to distract himself.”

Akaashi lets out a silent sigh, “No, not at all. He might be using me for _moral support_ , but he wouldn’t try anything. It’s not something he’d do.”

“And you know that or sure?”

“I know him better than you, Kuroo.” He has to bite his tongue to keep himself from spitting the words out.

Kuroo looks taken back, and Akaashi somewhat regrets his words. His friend, however, knows him all too well and doesn’t take it personally, much to Akaashi’s relief. “I’m just worried – about the both of you. Him, especially. He’s practically drunk. Blind. Oblivious. To _everything and anything_. I can’t say I understand heartbreak or anything,” he lifts up his hand and lets it fall onto his thigh as he shakes his head, “which is most likely why he came to you, knowing that you most likely have.  Before Bokuto, I mean.”

Akaashi stares at the shift stick as he nods, and Kuroo continues, “I’m just glad it’s you, if anyone, he went to. I know you’ll handle this situation the best.” He lets out a sigh, before turning to Akaashi and lightly squeezing his wrist. “You always do, after all. The great Akaashi.”

“I wish I didn’t.” his voice sounds dry, like he hasn’t spoken in years, “I don’t enjoy having responsibility.”

“No one does.” Kuroo smiles a bit, not sensing the flatness in Akaashi’s voice like he usually does. However, when Akaashi doesn’t smile back, he picks it up within another second.

“It’s-“ he pauses, and tries to think of a way to put his words, “It’s not responsibility, Akaashi. You’re doing us a favor, whenever you help any of us. We never expect you the be our therapist or anything, or to completely heal us. You’re just,” he shrugs, “a great guy. To talk to. You give us a break from everything else around us, because you’re just so,” he pauses again and blinks, “relaxing, I guess. Just you being there is enough, okay?”

Kuroo leans forward to just make eye contact with Akaashi and says, “Don’t put extra stress on yourself. You of all people don’t deserve it.”

He’s silent, still, and feels a bit remorseful when he sees Kuroo shift slowly, awkwardly. He speaks up quickly, “Thank you, Tetsurou.”

His head whips towards him quickly, his one visible eye slightly widening before he gives him a small smile, “No problem. _Keiji_.”

He blatantly rolls his eyes, and Kuroo laughs again.

His body tenses as the door swings open, but he’s grateful the two of them sorted things out before Oikawa came back.

The door shuts, and Kuroo swings his shoulder back, looking over to the back windows as he backs out. “You’re a very smooth driver.” Oikawa notes quietly.

“Ah, thanks.” Kuroo smiles through the front mirror, his eyes catching his friend’s through it.

Akaashi finds himself thinking about if Oikawa noticed the possible change in mood since he was gone. He argues with himself that if anything, it became more lighthearted in their tones, so he supposed Oikawa wouldn’t assume anything too terrible.

They arrive shortly, and Oikawa swings his small drawstring backpack out carelessly before firmly tossing it over his shoulder. He closes the door somewhat gently, but not before calling in, “I appreciate everything, Tetsurou.”

Akaashi feels a chill up his spine. _I believe in all of you._ The tone of his voice is almost identical.

Oikawa tries to be optimistic, Akaashi notices, but he knows that Oikawa’s optimism is almost always an act. His footsteps seem light and quick, like he swaying, and he’s humming, and he sees from the corner of his eye the forced smile on his lips.

His humming slows down, and eventually stops the higher the floor they reach. By the time they’re up the third story, there’s a silence. They enter, and Akaashi feels like time has stopped in his apartment since he had left. It felt so long ago.

With the few times Oikawa has slept over, he’s come to memorize every bit and piece of his home, so he eases in quickly, tossing his bag onto the couch and reaching up to the small shelf with all of Akaashi’s extra blankets and pillows. He changes into sweats and an old shirt, and pipes up when he returns.

“I’ll make dinner.” Oikawa volunteers. “I’ll make your favorite. For helping me.”

Akaashi blinks at him, his hand laced around his phone charger next to the couch, “My favorite? You mean nanoha-“

“Yup.” He smiles, but it looks more like he’s simply pressing his lip together.

His eyes follow Oikawa as he begins to gather ingredients, still sitting at the edge of the cushion. He places his phone on the center table, and sits on the opposite side of the counter where Oikawa has begin preparing.

“Why did you come here, today?”

Oikawa doesn’t look up at him, and does a bad job at hiding the tension in his face. “No reason.”

“Sure.” His voice is flat.

He lets out a small laugh. “Sometimes you’re very polite. Sometimes you’re just an asshole.”

Akaashi ignores his comment, but is somewhat amused at Oikawa’s attempt to change the subject – usually he tends to be more thorough. “I just want to know what to expect.”

“It’s nothing.” He persists. “I’m not completely fine, but I had no intention when coming here.” He pauses for such a long amount of time Akaashi begins to speak again, but is finally cut off, “I just wanted to avoid Tetsurou.”

“Kuroo?” Akaashi repeated blandly, still not believing him.

Oikawa nods furiously, “I don’t know what to say to him! He’s probably pissed I talked to you in a day, while he tried to for more than a week!”

His voice is in the typical tone of himself, but Akaashi’s aware of how far Oikawa is – mentally and emotionally – from his typical self.

He sighs, and looks at him in the eye. “I’m going to tell you now; I don’t believe you at all. I’ll be waiting for you to talk.”

He feels Oikawa’s stare burn into his back as he retreats to the couch, but he doesn’t know if it’s upsetting or reassuring. He hears Oikawa continue with dinner seconds later, and they don’t speak again.

Minutes later, Oikawa mumbles, “Waiting for the rice.” And sits on the opposite edge of the couch.

He doesn’t look up from his phone; he just nods.

He hears a shifting of fabric, and assumes it’s his friend rubbing his feet together as he feels no shift on the couch. He thinks it’s entertaining for Oikawa to try pull off his ‘no intentions’ act, as he tries to talk to him, but usually ends up mumbling when he feels that Akaashi isn’t listening.

By doing so, he’s able to confirm that Oikawa is, in fact, a flagrant liar. After years of knowing the man, Akaashi is able to summarize his personality in five words; cunning, stubborn, irritable, loyal, and, surprisingly, insecure.

Although not too surprising among their friends, no one on the streets would have the word flash through their minds when looking at him. He was attractive, intelligent, and radiated confidence.

His hands were thin, but strong, pushing through obstacles until they were purple and blue. His legs were skillful, standing only on stable ground. His mind laced through ideas and experience until he found an answer he saw fit.

His eyes were like scales, constantly comparing anything and everything to himself.

In high school, although being the captain, during matches Akaashi would notice that although all attention was gathered towards him, it was never really the words he said, or the questions he’d ask. He would speak, but only few people would listen. People would talk over him, would cut him off and repeat suggestions he had just made – most of the time they were not out of offense, but more because Oikawa never put full effort into talking.

He would tell teammates where to spike; they’d listen. He’d apologize about how his toss was too low; they’d listen. He’d point out the opponent’s weakness; they’d listen. But Akaashi noticed that for every command he gave, there were two questions to accompany them. _Was that alright? Have you noticed anything? Should we try focusing on number six instead of number two?_

His questions almost never reached anyone’s ears – anyone but Iwaizumi.

Akaashi felt as though he understood why; Oikawa was attractive, intelligent, confident. His presence demanded attention, but only the presence that overwhelmed perfection itself. He was a captain; he was a skilled setter. People only ever noticed his control, instead of the strings he had to pull to reach that level.

No one was aware of how he sometimes stumbled over words when asking what to do, or how the tips of his finger shook whenever his smile didn’t seem as nice as the day before, or how his pupils would dilate and his skin would pale when threats of replacing him were made.

Akaashi saw the way his eyes seemed dazed, recently. He knew he felt misplaced in his life at the moment. He watched Oikawa during games, or when he passed by in the hall, and he noticed everything.

He was aware of how Iwaizumi would understand his stumbling words, or how he would hold his hands until they stopped trembling, or how he would tell him over and over how important he was until his breathing calmed.

When he tried to talk to Akaashi, then, but would let himself trail off, he knew just how misplaced he was.

He’d never let himself stutter with Iwaizumi.

“The other day I ran into Kenma-chan at the mall,” he tried to speak, and his eyes slightly widened when Akaashi turned to look at him, “but I…” he pauses, and comes back with his voice quiet, “haven’t talked to him in so long.”

There’s a chill up Akaashi’s spine when He gets the sinking feel he wasn’t talking about Kenma. Oikawa’s fingers grip the couch until his knuckles are white, and he looks at Akaashi and breathes with a shaky smile, “Hajime isn’t gone.”

He doesn’t reply, and lets him continue, “We haven’t talked in a while, but he isn’t gone.” Oikawa smile wavers again, “I know we need each other.”

Akaashi speaks up softly, “Tooru…you can’t force a relationship-“

“You don’t understand.” He shakes his head. “I mean, you probably do, with Koutarou-chan. But you’re not getting what I’m trying to say.” He clenches and unclenches his fists, “Don’t you ever feel like your whole world just revolves around them, Keiji? Your soulmate?” He allows himself to slowly nod.

“That’s what I mean.” His smile is empty, “We’ll always be connected. We have been for as long as I can remember, and I think I’ve taken him for granted.” He rubs his hands up and down his thighs, and breathes, “I don’t think I care anymore, if he doesn’t kiss me, or if he doesn’t buy me flowers, or if he tells me we’ll never be married. I-“ He closes his eyes and tries to calm himself, and opens them to look down at his lap, “I want to be with him. I don’t care if he doesn’t love me, and I don’t care if we’re just friends. I can’t do anything without him. Everything I’ve ever done begins with me and ends with him.”

He looks up at Akaashi, his eyes meeting his, and his voice is steady as he says, “Help me.”

…………………

Oikawa falls asleep before their dinner is done. Akaashi places the blanket over him, and readjusts his pillow. He eats alone, but it isn’t lonely. His apartment is usually completely empty, so just the breathing of another body is enough to fill the spaces in between.

_Help me._

Akaashi can’t help but smile as he washes his dish, noticing how he said it almost like a command, instead of a request. Of course he’d help the fool regardless.

After Akaashi agreed, Oikawa held his head in his hands, and utters a deep, _thank you_ , before looking back up.

“Could we go to his place, tomorrow?” Oikawa asked, his voice somewhat rough.

“Are you ready for it? Just tomorrow?” he asked back.

He nodded, and replied after a second, “I’ve been thinking about going to him for a while. I’m just glad I was able to figure out everything right before.”

His eyes scanned over his friend’s face, and felt his shoulders relax as he could tell that his pleas were genuine. “Alright.” He tilted his head and questioned, “Am I just for transportation use? I don’t even own a car.”

“If you’re unwilling to do anything else.” Oikawa made a small joke. He said, “I always talk to Hajime straightforwardly. There’s no other way. I think…I think I just need you there to…”

“I’ll support you.” Akaashi nodded, and remembers how he had smiled a bit at Oikawa’s facial expression.

“Thank you.” He said again.

“Of course.” He returned, and added, “We’ll borrow Kuroo’s car.”

Oikawa had laughed for the first time since they arrived.

Akaashi goes to bed almost right after dinner, after recalling just how early his friend woke up. It isn’t surprising to him anymore, after now witnessing how quickly he fell asleep. He smiles a little again as he glances at him once last time before going into his own room. Somehow the blanket ended up on the floor.

 

May 5th

“Hurry up, Keiji.” Oikawa calls, annoyance in his voice despite the sweat on his palms.

“Just a second. Please calm yourself.” He replies, and turns back to Kuroo. “Thanks for this. Again.”

Kuroo eyes the keys in Akaashi’s hands, and speaks, “Oh? You’re not doing the usual tossing thing with them.”

He smiles, “Slipped out of my mind, probably. We’ll be back soon.”

“The longer the better. If you come back quickly, it’ll mean he shut both of you out instantly.” Kuroo lowers his voice for only Akaashi to hear.

Akaashi glances back at Oikawa, who is waiting by the car, and sighs, “I know. We should be going now. See ya’.” He nods, and turns away.

“Alright. Safe trip, children!” Kuroo calls, before heading back in through the main doors.

Oikawa is somewhat smiling when Akaashi unlocks the car, and he’s surprised that he can feel the excitement radiating off of him.

“You seem glad, today.” He voices his thoughts when they pull out of the parking lot.

“I am, I suppose. I think my mind’s clear now.” He answers calmly, confidently, for what feels like the first time in years. “What I want and what I need to do is right in front of me. I just have to work a little bit to get it.” He adds on, his eyes latched to a cloud outside the window.

Akaashi readjusts his hands on the steering wheel, “I’m relieved that you’re alright, now.”

“Thank you, Keiji.” His smile is back, and is softer, and reaches his eyes.  Akaashi feels the tension in his mind relax when he knows that now, he is finally, truly, okay. But he can’t help the small annoyance in the back of his mind that makes him wonder if the current trip will heal or break his peace.

Oikawa talks for almost the entire ride, and with each sentence that tumbles out of his mouth, Akaashi eases into his friend’s mood. He’s always admired Oikawa, without a doubt; he has always used him, Iwaizumi, and Kuroo as role models. As Oikawa begins whining about his brother-in-law, Akaashi’s smile becomes almost permanent on his face, and there’s a sense of pride in him when he realizes that the two of them are finally equals.

He talks to him like he usually does – exaggerated grins and smirks and dramatic dialogue, with the occasional pinch to his cheek. But he notices the small differences in how he treats him, and he wonders if it’s because Oikawa feels as though he is completely comfortable with him as well. He still grins and teases, but when Akaashi contradicts him he chuckles and becomes a bit embarrassed. His ears turn red, and he rolls his eyes, and he lets out emotions other than the default one of the being constantly preppy. He scowls, and scoffs, and gets offended when Akaashi says the city should plant more trees instead of flowers. His words are still bright, but hold a calmness to them that strip away any sort of theatrical vibe, and it’s refreshing to talk to him seriously.

As they enter the city Iwaizumi lives in, there’s a hush to his presence in the car. He begins to talk less and less as familiar stores and streets seem to make him think of different events, based on the expressions shadowed onto his face.

His body seems to become more frail than how Akaashi remembered. His shoulders are low yet tense, and his arms are pulled in as close to his body as he can put them. Although his legs are still the same, Akaashi could tell in a glance he was staring at the floor.

“Are you still alright?” he asks as they turn onto his street, slowing down, “We can still turn back. Don’t feel like you have to do this if you’ve changed your mind.”

He sighs, and it’s a bit shaky, but his voice is clear, “Thank you, Keiji, but I’m fine. I’m capable of talking to him.”

“What would you like me to do?” he asks as they pull up in front of the apartments. “I don’t want to intrude if you begin talking about anything too personal.”

“Suppose you’re right.” He mumbles, and tilts his head to the side as he thinks. “Alright, then. If I say, ‘Akaashi.’ Then that means I’m asking you to step out; because I don’t normally call you that, it should stick out a bit.”

He nods, and pulls the keys out of the ignition, “Okay, seems simple enough. Let’s go, then?”

Oikawa opens his door, and huffs, “Let’s go.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oh god if you any of you earlier readers noticed I took away the total chapter number x/21, it's because I'm a wreck. Like, I /thought/ i had every chapter planned out specifically by scene, but then...character development ruined it tbh. But I'm glad, too! It makes the story a little more in depth, and it makes it longer overall, haha. If i had to guess the number of chapters I would still say around the twenties, maybe 26 to 28? who knows....


	10. may 5th

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I skipped school today to write this because I was on a roll last night so yikes!!
> 
> The final chapter revolving around the poor poor angsty iwaois. They'll still be in the story, but their relationship/character development finishes here. Also even though the story is in third person, it's still /Akaashi's pov/, but here it sort of switches to Oikawa and Iwaizumi's like halfway, if that makes sense. 
> 
> And finally, omg you guys. This is chapter 10, and there's 4000 hits and 350 kudos. I honestly cannot begin to describe how amazing that is, holy shit. When I posted the first chapter, I woke up the next morning and was like, wow, it'd be a blessing to have 20 hits! But then it was at 300 and I felt like i just went through cardiac arrest, and here we are. Thank you so so so much for your kudos, reads, comments, everything. Your support means everything and it inspires me, I love you all so so much. <3

May 5th

The elevator ride up is agonizing. Akaashi gets the feeling that he is possibly more anxious than Oikawa. Brief glances at his friend is all it takes to see that either he has practiced hiding his emotions, or he’s truly feeling at ease.

Although his mind is more settled with the latter, he believes it’s less likely. With a second glance over the options, he realizes both of them are unlikely; although Oikawa knew how to control his emotions, in the instances when he didn’t, he didn’t bother controlling how he presented them. If he managed to become thoroughly annoyed with someone, he wouldn’t hesitate in showing the full package – the frown, the irritation in his voice, the snide remarks he would make.

Over the past few hours, Akaashi has come to the conclusion that Oikawa simply couldn’t handle his feelings when it came to Iwaizumi, so, he had to stick with the second theory. Although he wasn’t too trusting with it, he forced himself to accept it. It was better if his friend was calmer at the moment.

The second the elevator opened to the floor, Oikawa spoke, “Tetsurou told me about how you were going to talk to Hajime a few weeks back, before everything was official.”

The two stepped out. Their steps had dull sounds erupting from under their feet.

“Did he?” he hummed.

“I just want to know if you’re doing this out of pity; because you didn’t talk to him before, so you feel like you could’ve prevented this.” His eyes catch Akaashi’s.

“Of all the things I feel towards your character, pity isn’t one of them. Don’t worry.” He replies, and they stop in front of a door with the number 720 on it.

Akaashi is a step farther from the door than Oikawa is, but he’s still close enough to see how his face is still stoic, his eyes seemingly unfocused although they are narrowed.

Seconds later, Oikawa lifts his hand, but when Akaashi believes he is going to knock, he instead lays a single finger on the numbers.

His eyes dart to the door, and he opens his mouth to question it.

“Fucking bastard.” Oikawa lets out a bitter laugh.

He shuts his mouth.

Oikawa opens his mouth to speak, then closes it, his lips making a soft sound as his chapped lips part. He opens them again and begins, “When we were in high school, we always planned on moving in together. Always. We made a list of things we’d buy, we bookmarked websites that sold cheap supplies, we looked up nice areas and pretty complexes. Once, I joked that we should find an apartment with the number 610 on it. His birthday – June 10th.” He breathes out a sigh through his nose. “And then,” his voice softens, “he leaves me. And he’s moved into an apartment with _my_ birthday on it.”

Akaashi’s eyes sink into the three numbers, and questions quietly, “I thought the reason this happened was because…he hid the fact that you could’ve moved in with him. Do you believe he broke up with you because he truly wanted to?”

“Hajime is the most confident, honest person I know.” Is his reply, “And I’ll always despise him for it.” His voice is hostile, yet the voice that used to intimidate Akaashi seems more irritating than threatening. He can see through his anger that he’s trying to protect himself from possible rejection, and Akaashi rolls his eyes.

“Stop lying.” Akaashi looks at him, although he can only see one of his eyes from the angle he’s at.

Oikawa turns to him slowly, like Akaashi’s offended him, “What?” he breathes, his eyes narrowing at him.

“You’re becoming tiring. Just knock on the door already.” He says, an edge to his voice, and even he is confused at where the tension came from.

Oikawa takes a step to the side, to face him more. He doesn’t say anything, but his eyes bore into his with the same amount of hatred in them when they first met.

Akaashi speaks, “Are you trying to tell me that you, knowing how long you two have known each other, cut each other off, without thinking that it was a mistake?” As the words tumble out, he can see Oikawa’s jaw clench. “That you pointed that-” he looks at the door, “-out to me, without thinking that any of it was a mistake?” His voice begins to slightly rise, but he manages to control the level of it. “That you cried for days and finally come back here, and yet you’re satisfied to walk back out without him?”

Oikawa’s eyes turn only inches to the left, to avoid his eyes.

“If that’s what you’re telling me, then maybe I do pity you. You’ve wasted my time.”

His eyes dart back to him, and they widen. He sees Oikawa clench his fists with such force they began to shake. He can see the slight rise in his hand, but doesn’t flinch. Then, in an instant, with his hand raised level to his neck, he takes another step to face the door, and the tension in his body leaves.

His fingers unravel, and lets his knuckles rest against the door. He pauses for a few moments, and Akaashi can see his back began to relax. He lifts his hand a few inches, and knocks. The echoing through the wood intertwines with the throbbing in his ears.

As Akaashi thinks the wait will be as tortuous as the elevator ride, the door suddenly swings open, making the two of them slightly jump.

Akaashi watches as Iwaizumi’s eyes doesn’t even glance at him, doesn’t even acknowledge his presence.

“Oikawa.” He breathes, his eyes somewhat uncertain. There isn’t any anger in his voice, and Oikawa greets with a soft hello in return, his own annoyance has completely fled his body from only minutes ago.

His eyes aren’t as narrowed as they usually are; his lips aren’t as pursed; his eyebrows aren’t as furrowed. His eyes are somewhat wide, like he’s witnessed the unbelievable. After another second, Akaashi realizes his face looks almost pained.

Akaashi supposes that’s a somewhat good thing.

Iwaizumi finally notices the presence behind him, his face turning towards Akaashi before he casts his eyes away from Oikawa. His shoulders somewhat relax, “Akaashi.” He greets softly, and Akaashi wonders if his calmness is due to the fact he’s no longer staring at Oikawa, or if he’s generally relieved about another body in between the tension.

“Um,” he turns back to Oikawa but doesn’t meet his eyes. His eyes cast towards Akaashi as a way to run away, if only for a moment. “Could I do something for you guys?” He’s reduced to muttering. His voice is a little less edgy than usual as well, Akaashi notices. Iwaizumi almost never filters his usual annoyance for things, so for him to take precautions when speaking to him made Akaashi grimace at the thought of how bad their last talk must have been.

When Oikawa doesn’t reply, and Iwaizumi begins to bite his lip, Akaashi curses in his head.

“Yes, you could.” Akaashi smiles sweetly, trying to use his ironic irritation towards Oikawa at the moment to forge politeness. With the way the two have successfully exchanged one word each, he believes getting straight into things will be hell sent. “There was a nice yogurt shop a few streets down from here. Would you like to join us?”

He uses the sharp tongue Noya has told him about, his voice sounding almost threatening despite the courtesy in his words.

He takes the hint- thank god – and stutters, “Um. S-Sure. Give me a minute.” And all but slams the door in their faces.

Seconds afterward Oikawa lets out a high pitched whine, his head falling into his hands. “Keiji.” He grabs his friend by his shoulders. “He called me _Oikawa._ Other than his offensive little petty insults, he hasn’t actually called me Oikawa in _years._ I-“ he begins to slightly panic, “Do I call him Hajime or Iwaizumi? The nerve of that bitch,” he suddenly spits, and Akaashi would have found it all amusing if it weren’t for the current situation, “I’m already getting acne stressing over not stuttering and he has to add some more bullshit on top of it.”

Akaashi stifles a laugh afterwards. He isn’t too used to Oikawa’s flat ranting moods, at least not anymore. Often when he was mad, it was when he was teasing, like with Kuroo, or he was cold blooded angry. However, he hasn’t experienced his more or less whiny self.

Oikawa glares at the muffled sound, “Oh, god, Keiji. You’re immature as hell.”

“I am a year younger.” He lightly laughs again, before smiling a bit, “Calm down. We’re not going to talk about anything too serious for now. Not in public, at least, it’s indecent. Just relax. You’ve known him since…?”

“Since I came out of the womb.” He nods affirmatively.

“Hm. Yes. I doubt it. But-“ he shrugs, “a mere few weeks shouldn’t make it this awkward. Just try to remember how you usually act.”

Oikawa repeats his high pitched whine, “Remembering is easy as all _hell_ , Keiji. I could stay awake at night and repeat dozens of our conversations word for word. I just don’t know how I’m supposed to use that to talk to him _now_.”

Akaashi somewhat huffs, “Alright, alright, I’ll help start conversation. Just stop whining, please, you’re like a child.”

Oikawa flashes an irritated smile, “You know, you’ve grown some nerve as of late, Keiji-chan.”

He shrugs, “That just means I’m comfortable with you.”

Oikawa begins to throw another annoyed remark, but the door softly creaks open, and the two of them back up like he was a plague as he steps out into the hallway with them, and locks his door.

“Well,” Akaashi smiles again, “Let’s go then, yes? Your lagging is tiring.”

The two of them raise their eyebrows and wonder how long his attitude has been sheltered from them. They look at each other in confusion before whipping their head away in realization.

“Yeah,” Oikawa says dryly, still somewhat embarrassed, “ _We’re_ tiring.”

“That’s what I just said.” He deadpans, and begins to lead the two of them away. _Bastard_ , he hears both of them mutter at the same time, followed by Oikawa hiccupping in surprise.

The silence between them is anything but graceful or poetic. The silence he mentions is the silence between the specific two, not including himself, however. As Akaashi drives, he talks softly about a few things, and either one of them will continue the conversation; they simply won’t talk to each other.

They arrive, and Akaashi gives Oikawa a look urging him to talk to him himself, in reference to his own failures in starting conversation. Oikawa puffs up his cheeks and looks away.

Akaashi is the first to sit at a table outside, and he waits patiently, scrolling through his messages. He smiles in endearment when Noya enthusiastically describes his anniversary weekend with Asahi in Tokyo. As he begins to reply back, the door slightly jingles, and Iwaizumi walks out. He gives Akaashi a polite smile, but the strain in the corner of his eyes make it look much too forced, and he takes a seat across from him.

Akaashi slips the plastic spoon out from between his lips, and spoons his yogurt. “How have you been, Iwaizumi-san?” he does no effort in hiding its standard politeness.

“I’ve been fine.” He rolls his eyes, annoyed, “How have _you two_ been?”

“It’s not jealousy I’m sensing.” Akaashi smiles a bit, then gets straight to the point, “I don’t mean to be nosy, but frankly, it’s my forte. He’s been a wreck. I’ve never seen someone so disheveled. So I’m going to ask you again, out of concern, how have you been?” He brings to spoon to his lips.

“I’m not sure if I can put it into words.” Is all he says.

“Could you try?”

“Ah,” he taps his spoon onto his bowl, and shakes his head, “There’s a lot of things I could say, but I guess most things like this boil down to one clear thought.” He furrows his eyebrows, and his ever known frown is on his face. He opens and closes his mouth before he sighs through his nose, and says simply, “I miss him.”

Akaashi doesn’t say anything, but for once, neither does Iwaizumi.

Oikawa comes out and sits in between the two, and his whole body tenses as his knee brushes Iwaizumi’s. Akaashi tries to gauge his reaction, but his face is left stoic, unlike Oikawa’s.

Akaashi’s eyes glance back and forth between the other’s two bowls, and questions, “Did you two get the same flavors?”

Oikawa nods a bit slowly, and begins to explain, but is cut off by the other, “We,” he drags it on, “used to just share one. I guess our taste palettes are just similar.”

Oikawa nods again, a bit more enthusiastic this time, his mouth shut with his spoon in it.

After a moment of silence, Akaashi asks, “Actually, could we go back to your place?” he turns to Iwaizumi.

“But Keiji-chan, we just got here.” Oikawa tried to steady his voice, and Akaashi knows he’s feeling anxious on being out of the public’s eye with Iwaizumi.

“No, I think that it’s fine, Akaashi. We should go. It gets busy around here.” Iwaizumi mutters, and is the first to get up.

On the drive back, Akaashi stares at Oikawa with an empty look whenever they hit a stop light half of the time, and tries to hurriedly eat the rest of his yogurt the other half. He wonders if Oikawa has lost the motivation to even try to get Iwaizumi back, and he hopes that the latter’s almost unresponsive reaction to all of this didn’t water any of Oikawa’s previous determination down.

He didn’t want to push Oikawa into giving him the details of exactly what caused everything, but he isn’t sure how to possibly help them, or lead them into the topic when he has no clue what exactly everything revolved around.

His mind traces back to when he and Oikawa arrived in front of his door as they reach the apartment complex. He walks next to Oikawa and behind Iwaizumi as he thinks. When they first arrived, Akaashi believed that Oikawa was calm about the situation, but looking back, he realizes he in fact felt hopeless. Unsettled. He was completely hesitant once they finally came down to it.

He remembers how ticking him off somehow sparked Oikawa’s memory in why they were there. He turns the idea in his head as they arrive at his apartment, and they walk in. Oikawa’s even more tense than he is, although he has been there multiple times before; Akaashi assumes it’s the weight of knowing that the said apartment was the root of everything, of the lies and disentanglement of their built up problem, is what is causing his uneasiness.

Iwaizumi leads them to a small dining table, most likely unable to hold no bigger than four people. Akaashi and Iwaizumi throw away their empty plastic bowls, and Oikawa lets his sit a good distance away from him on the table.

Akaashi decides that riling Oikawa up is the only solution. Luckily, knowing the misfit couple, he’s aware of the fact that they that could debate about something as simple as exactly what degree the weather was at for over an hour. He pretends he’s concerned about something before speaking up, “Could I ask you two for advice?”

The two blink at him, so he continues. “My father wants me to transfer to Tokyo next year to apply to the medical school he works at it instead of the local one around here. Kuroo says I should go, and Bokuto hasn’t given me a direct opinion on it.” He looks up at them, somewhat bored, and the two raise an eyebrow in wonder if he genuinely wants their opinions.

“I think you should.” Iwaizumi pipes up, finally. Akaashi watches as his eyes are casted downward. He blinks, “It’s fine to make the hard decision if it benefits you.”

“It’ll be harder on the people around me than myself. Kuroo. Tsukishima. Bokuto.” He murmurs, and purses his lips. The topic was just supposed to be a filler, but he ended up becoming worried about it himself.

“Well,” he says quietly, “You should still do it. They would understand; hell, knowing that rowdy bunch they’ll probably visit you every weekend. How they feel should be the least of your worries, if you trust them enough, I mean.”

“You can’t determine how people feel based on assumptions.” Oikawa intrudes, biting his finger lightly. He looks straight at Akaashi, despite talking to Iwaizumi. His voice is somewhat low, trembling out of his throat. “Say you were to go, Keiji. Say you were to trust them, and say they were to trust you, and all of a sudden you leave. Great. What do you do, now? Continue all of your relationships based on _trust_ alone?” he emphasizes the word by almost spitting it out, “It doesn’t work that way.”

Akaashi tries to hide the smallest grin threating to split onto his face as he realizes the task was easier accomplished than he predicted.

“He’s not talking about his future when it comes to trust, Tooru.” Iwaizumi finally looks him in the eye, and Oikawa holds his stare better than Akaashi expects. “He’s asking us on how to make the decision on whether or not to go, not how he’s going to continue his relationships.”

A scoff. “Wow. So you’re going to make one decision, and just hope everything afterwards falls into place?” His voice is intimidating, and Akaashi finds himself wondering if Iwaizumi is as bold as he is after years of sticking by someone as devious as him.  “I should’ve _known_ you were going to suggest that.” Oikawa gives a hostile grin, “I know it all too well, don’t I?”

Akaashi sucks in a silent breath, and suddenly his problems seem to evaporate as he sees rage, desperation, and confusion just by the way their eyes lock. His problem evaporates from their minds as well, and just as suddenly, Iwaizumi’s shoulders curl up into his body, and he shakes his head. His eyes seem bright, and seconds later, Akaashi realizes it’s because they’re glossed over.

Oikawa breaks the stare by looking into his lap, and he murmurs, “Akaashi.”

He was expecting it, and stands up swiftly, but smoothly, the legs of the chair making soft scrapes of the wood floor. He gives a curt nod and says quietly, “I’ll be walking around. Call me, Oikawa.”

“Wait.” Iwaizumi speaks up, eyebrows furrowed in confusion. “Where are you going?”

He shrugs, slowing his step. “Anywhere. Just for a while.”

“No, no.” he shakes his head, and waves him back over. “I don’t think that…we could…” he looks away embarrassedly, “…do what we’re doing here, alone.” He sighs and runs a hand through his spiked hair, and murmurs, “Last time it didn’t work out so well.”

“Last time you didn’t even talk to me.” Oikawa’s voice is similar to a growl, and his fingers tighten around the chair arms until Akaashi is afraid he might break it.

Iwaizumi narrows his eyes, “ _Last time_ you came over after almost three weeks and talked about how miserable you felt. What the hell was I supposed to talk about? Our relationship? How could I, when all you were concerned about was how lonely you were?”

His voice raises, and he seethes, “Don’t even _try_. Don’t try to spin this on _me,_ like it’s _my_ fault that you’re too much of a coward to tell me why you did all of that, Hajime.”

Akaashi tenses up and begins to walk away again, but not before he hears a cracking sound. He turns quickly, suddenly concerned if Iwaizumi was going to become physical, but realizes it’s Oikawa’s knuckles cracking at how tight his fingers are wrapped around the chair. He begins on his way again, and the two don’t even flinch at the sound of the door signaling his absence.

Iwaizumi clenches his jaw, “Look, Tooru, I’m not even _trying_ to condone what I did so _stop fucking acting like I am._ You know very well that it was you that created this space in our relationship. I tried to come over almost every day for a week, but every time I did, you’d make Kuroo kick me out. So of course I’d stop eventually, because I thought, he’d just need some space, so that’s exactly what I did. Then all of a sudden, weeks later, you demand to know where I’ve been? Complain about how lonely you are? _Would you fucking look at me_.” He spits when Oikawa turns away. “I tried to fix everything as soon as possible, so stop playing the goddamn pity card and calling me a coward when you’re the one who’s pushed it to this point.”

Oikawa hesitates for a second before he remembers who he’s talking to, and tells himself that his anger is justified. He says, still irritated, “Fine. _Fine. I’m sorry_ , Hajime. I’ve apologized, okay? Now why don’t you tell me, if you spent so long analyzing all of _my_ mistakes, where the hell did you get the nerve to repeat them a week ago when I came back?”

“Because I got sick of waiting for you.” His response is so immediate that Oikawa’s grip around the chair is gone, and his shoulders fall. Iwaizumi’s eyes widen, and he stutters, “ _No,_ that-that’s not what I meant. You know-“

“Yeah.” He breathes, and squeezes his eyes shut, his mind shifting to solely focusing on keeping anything from falling from his eyes. After what seems like ten minutes, the two have cooled off, and Iwaizumi has raised his hand so many times to reach out to him he stopped counting, and all of the times he ended up retracting it. Oikawa gives a dry laugh. “I would have, too.”

Oikawa’s chest is filled with hot air when he feels arms squeezing around his shoulders, and he’s _beyond_ livid, wants to push Iwaizumi to the ground and spit in his face and tell him he absolutely hates him, that he wishes he’d never met him, but a whimper rips through his throat as the pain of even imagining doing any of those things hurts more than holding any amount of anger in.

And then his voice soothes the ache, and his face is hot as his tears soak into Iwaizumi’s shirt, cheeks pressed against him. He raises his arms, not to hug him back, because he isn’t sure he’s completely ready to accept him yet, isn’t sure if Iwaizumi is actually willing to even consider fixing anything if he were to actually accept him. He squeezes Iwaizumi’s shoulders, digging his nails into them so hard until he can feel his blood seeping out, and waits for him to tell Oikawa to stop, like he always does when he’s pissed at him.

Iwaizumi’s focused on the heat at his shoulder, how he can feel how tense Oikawa’s back is and how he absolutely knows it’s because of him. He feels the digging of his nails moments later, and god, it starts to _burn_ , but he lets Oikawa’s fingers rip through his skin because he realizes that whatever pain he’s feeling at the moment isn’t even a fraction of how he made him feel the past month.

He isn’t crying, but _he wants to_ , wants to make himself suffer because he knows that out of their relationship, it’s always been Oikawa to care too much and him to care too little. He’s sick of always feeling the other’s tears on his skin, and asks himself why can’t he cry instead? Why can’t he be in pain for once, instead of him always inflicting it on Oikawa?

Oikawa realizes soon that Iwaizumi isn’t going to tell him to stop, that he isn’t going to push Oikawa away and leave him with wet cheeks over some scraped skin, and the realization makes him push his face even harder into his shoulder, until he’s almost suffocating. He wraps his hand around the curves of his back; the tension releases from within him, and he allows himself to melt into the body that’s grown to fit him since he can remember. Oikawa feels his chin rest on his shoulder, and his breath on his skin, and his fingers at the base of his neck. He could swear that he could feel his name, _Tooru,_ tremble from his chest and into the air, but he’s left wondering if it’s just him chasing after the desire to hear it instead.

His voice wavers as he begins to speak, and it’s rough, like the hot air in his chest has been pushed out, “All you repeated, over and over, was _leave_.” He isn’t crying anymore, but his body is still trembling because he knows it’s still likely he will begin again, “You don’t miss me?”

“Of _course_ I do.” His voice is cracking as well, but is still delicately hushed, and Oikawa finds himself remembering all the times he’d speak in that voice as he treaded fingers through his hair, telling him to go to sleep.

 “Tooru,” Iwaizumi murmurs into his skin, “You know I love you.”

A smile burns onto his face, although it’s shaky, and he wants to say the words back, but the narcissism and self-cautiousness that’s grown on him and decayed into his instincts make him choke out instead, “Then, why?”

“I’ve just gotten myself into a pretty bad problem, okay?” his voice is a whisper, and it’s so soft that the air blows the words away before Oikawa can fully comprehend them. “Just give me a few weeks, okay?” he says softly, and it makes Oikawa’s eyes slightly widen at the delicacy of it. “Just let me handle this. Just know that we’re not…” he sighs, and it makes him seem like he’s in agony, “I love you, so much. You already know that, and you know how embarrassing it is for me to say mushy things like this.”

Oikawa laughs, but it’s so weak that it’s down to a push of air from his lips and a slight smile on his face. “I know.” He finally pulls back, but their bodies are still close. He wipes his eyes, and feels a warmth in his chest when he sees Iwaizumi has to as well.

“I thought I pushed you away.” Iwaizumi mutters but smiles a bit. “I’m glad you’re a stubborn little shit.”

The two laugh quietly, almost chuckles. Their eyes lock, and suddenly Oikawa is leaning in, and Iwaizumi is following his steps. Their kiss is chaste and soft, but is pure euphoria for the two. Oikawa feels completely deprived, has been feeling broken and unsure of every muscle movement he’s made since he walked out of his apartment over a week ago. His lips are cold, but slowly warm up, and even though it all happened last week, he hasn’t kissed him in almost a month.

Iwaizumi’s hand cups his cheek, and he leans into it, and can’t help the smile in the kiss. He’s always loved his hands; he’s always loved how they were made to hold his body, how they were soft yet every ridge in his fingers were distinct. They pull away only slightly, the tips of their noses almost touching.

“I really thought I lost you.”

Although Oikawa is smiling because he knows the statement has been proven wrong, just seeing the redness of the skin around his eyes and the blush on his cheeks make Iwaizumi’s chest ache again.

“I never wanted you to actually leave, you idiot.” He mumbles, and kisses his lips again.

Oikawa sighs, but it’s in relaxation instead of stress. “Y-you just,” he tries to explain, “you scared me. I thought-“

Iwaizumi’s sigh cuts him off and kisses him for the third time, harder, and when he pulls away he places his hand on Oikawa’s cheek and presses their foreheads together. “You’re so obnoxious.” He finally says, “you bask in attention yet you’re never satisfied unless you asked for it.” Oikawa’s eyes are closed, and he just listens. “You never got over it, huh?” he asks cautiously, “Kageyama. The paranoia.”

“Your attention is all I have.” Is his reply.

“My attention is all you may want,” Iwaizumi softly corrects him, “But this isn’t middle school. This isn’t high school. We’re not on a volleyball court, Tooru.” His thumb drags along his cheek, “Look at me.” He says quietly, and Oikawa opens his eyes. “You’re not a captain anymore. You aren’t a player on a team anymore. People won’t-“ he struggles with his words, “I won’t leave you, if you lack in anything at all. You can’t be replaced anymore, there’s no one to replace you if you don’t score any points, or any bullshit like that. Nobody cares anymore if you’re not able to toss as well he did, or if you’re unable to lead the team anymore. _There is no team_ , Tooru. It’s just you and I."

Oikawa lets out a shaky breath as he squeezes his eyes shut, and it sounds like a whimper. He begins to nod, first small and slow, and his chest feels like it’s going to cave in until he’s finally able to smile. He lets his head rest on Iwaizumi’s shoulder, and he’s finally able to breathe. “Hajime, I…”

Iwaizumi rests his head against Oikawa’s, and mumbles, “I know. I know. I know.” His fingers are tracing patterns in his back.

“You’re my best friend.” He tells him, his voice steady, his hands steady, his heart steadier, and there’s a soaring in his chest when he can say the words in pride instead of in misery.

Iwaizumi echoes, “You’re my best friend.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I could not even conSIDER finishing off my poor iwaois badly because their ship goes through so much angst and unhappy endings, and even their relationship itself is somewhat controversial to some people, and it upsets me so much because they're both...so...pure....they've been together forever...what have they done to be treated by the fandom this way....my iwaois....
> 
> On another note hmu on tumblr at lunakaashi! Vent to me or tell me about your day or give me suggestions or anything! I have no life! I'm a bored young baby bean! Honestly pls I'm dying you guys. (I'm no longer /enchantobio/ regarding my previous chapter notes.)


	11. may 5th - may 12th

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm still so glad my iwaois are better. Esp after ep 24 because I'm so :)))) wrecked,,,,,
> 
> Also, the feedback for the last chapter was so lovely! I wasn't too sure on the angst but I'm so glad you guys liked it! Thank you all so so much! <3
> 
> This chapter is 35% bokuaka fluffs, 60% kuroo cackling, and 5% bokuroaka teasing. I hope you all enjoy. (also sorry for being a week late rip)

May 5th

Akaashi felt a vibration in his pocket about half an hour after he had left. His eyes casted downwards to his phone that he pulled out, just enough to see the screen.

_From: Oikawa_

_[ Keiji-chan! You can leave if you want, I’m probably going to stay here the night! ]_

He blinked at it, and let out a sigh that sounded forced, but was one of the most utterly genuine ones that have left his lips. _Thank god,_ he thought in a bitter tone, but there was a trace of a smile on his lips nonetheless.

_To: Oikawa_

_[ I’m assuming everything is alright, then? ]_

_From: Oikawa_

_[ For such a smart boy, you’re pretty terrible at reading between the lines! ]_

His eyebrow twitched, and he pressed the screen with his thumb with an excessive amount of force.

_To Oikawa:_

_[ That’s rich coming from you, considering you need glasses to read the lines at all. ]_

_From: Oikawa_

_[ LISTEN HERE YOU BRAT ]_

_[ MY NEPHEW GAVE ME MY GLASSES SO IF YOU WANT TO START SOMETHING ]_

_[ start it when I have my contacts in tbh :/ I have nothing cute to remark, I’m too occupied. I’m leaving now. Bye bye! ]_

_[ Also thank you very, very much Keiji. Love you!! ]_

_To Oikawa:_

_[ Of course, Oikawa-san. ]_

He shook his head and resisted rolling his eyes. Oikawa was, above all things, a child.

He stood somewhere he had no familiarity with, but the only thing that crossed his mind was not even his whereabouts, but about how cold he was. The sides of his arms were stiff and covered with goosebumps, and his palms had started to become red. It was spring, but closer to the coast it practically felt like it was autumn year round, unless it was the very middle of summer. He was somewhat familiar with the climate since he used to live somewhat nearby years ago, along with how frequently he visited Bokuto less than twenty minutes away.

He tossed the idea in his mind, and decided to visit him, since he was so close to him after all. The only problem was getting back to the car. He had remembered the two streets the complex was on, but he had no idea where those two streets were. He attempted to look up his location on his phone, but his data offered no help. After a straight five minutes of a grey circle spinning, he became irritated and shoved his phone back into his pocket, with no advancement in his situation.

He tried to retrace his steps and became a bit more calm after another ten minutes because he began recognizing selective shops he passed by. Another fifteen minutes and the complex was in sight, and he silently blessed his subpar directional skills – an incident where Kuroo had gotten them lost while they were camping once crossed his mind, and he paled as he imagined how lost he’d be if he were as hopeless as his friend.

He huffed as he started the car, key clicking in ignition, as well as a satisfied smile ghosting across his face as soon as the heater came on with a buzz. He texted Kuroo quickly, asking if it was okay for him to keep his car until tomorrow; he was most likely going to spend the night at Bokuto’s, considering how doubtful he was of his driving skills in the dark. Once he got the text reassuring it was fine, he pulled out of the parking lot, and began to continue on his way.

He’d be lying if he were to say he didn’t feel even the least bit proud about helping the two he had left behind recently, especially since he originally was flustered at the thought of doing so. He thought to himself, and wasn’t sure if the vision of himself and Bokuto being in the same situation was too settling in his gut.

An event that could’ve easily led to the situation had happened, with him and his subconscious chronic lying and unprecedented level of anxiety. He was entirely too glad to see how calm and thoughtfully Bokuto took the situation, how he cleared the air and pinpointed the perfect solution as if he had been thinking about it for days. He felt a churning in his stomach when his mind began echoing back and forth, _how did he know how to handle it?,_ and there was a sudden paleness to his skin as he wondered why Bokuto seemed so used to and so _relaxed_ with the fact that he, his boyfriend, was constantly lying to him.

_Unless he’s used to being lied to._

He pursed his lips at the thought and tried to reason, everyone lies. Bokuto was most likely more _used to it_ because he was able to actually differentiate between the flurry of truth and lies experienced in life. He rolled his fingers on the steering wheel as he pulled into the town, and told himself not to worry about it, to not worry about Bokuto, because he could trust Bokuto to tell him anything, anyways.

He arrived just over five minutes later, and almost considered the cold painful, as the sun was almost down, and the wind was sharpening the freezing temperature of the air. He walked at a pace too fast for only three yards’ worth of land, but the chattering of his teeth made him stride even faster. He knocked too loud, too quickly, too much, but at the moment could care less. He wasn’t usually so inconsiderate when it came to etiquette, but etiquette didn’t apply too much when his fingers felt as though they were going to freeze off of his hands.

Bokuto peeked through the front door, and Akaashi found himself smiling a bit at the sight of his golden eye and the light brushing off the apple of his cheek when he smiled. The door opened fully soon after, and Bokuto held an arm out to welcome him in. Akaashi took it as a hug instead, and Bokuto swiftly closed the door and didn’t complain.

Except for he did, being Bokuto and the such. “W-wow! Akaashi, Akaashi! You’re cold as hell, are you okay?” he pulled his head back from the hug to look at him, slightly concerned, slightly amused.

Akaashi mumbled with a smile, “I’m fine, really. It’s quite warm in here.” He tried to control the twitch of his lips as he slipped his hands under the very hem of Bokuto’s shirt, the frigid tips of his fingers tracing what felt like ice into his warm skin.

“Akaash-“ Bokuto squeaked, and jumped back, “-iii~” he cried, holding the spot on his waist his fingers had just brushed as if he had hurt him.

“Come back,” Akaashi let out a low chuckle and began to raise an arm to him, but the somewhat rougher voice cut him off.

“No!” he exclaimed, eyes wide, but then lowered it, “Uh, no. Not yet, I mean. You’re _really_ cold. You’re probably going to die. Sorry.”

“I’m so glad.” Akaashi rolls his eyes, and crosses his arms. “I guess I’ll leave, in that case. If I stay here I might die; I should go to a hospital, hm?”

“Or we could make a fort of pillows and blankets and you could die here,” Bokuto gave a sheepish grin, and offered a hand to make up for the one Akaashi had held out but was left empty.

Akaashi tries to glare, but a chuckle builds up in his chest, and he ends up grabbing the hand presented to him – the much bigger, warmer hand, he notices.

They end up building a fort after all, using blankets and chairs and the couch to create it, the inside filled with pillows amongst pillows, and a single lamp in the middle, under the chair that created the highest point of it all. It’s tall enough for them to sit up straight in, but by the end of the night, Bokuto ends up putting in a mattress for them to lie down in.

Akaashi feels his face warm up as he lays his head on Bokuto’s chest, although there is no doubt that he is most likely not blushing to externally show it. The redness of his cheeks show up for all the uncommon reasons – the cold, the anxiety, sometimes excitement. Not the typical embarrassment or heat one would expect.

Bokuto questions, “Not that I love the fact you came out of nowhere, but why’d you decide to visit?” He can feel the vibrations from his vocal cords.

“No reason, really.” Akaashi blinks, his eyelids becoming slightly heavier, although he doesn’t want to fall asleep yet. He always does when he’s with Bokuto, even though he hates how he sleeps a lot of the time when he could be awake with him instead. It’s hard for him to resist to, though, partly because he’s noticed the only time sleep comes easy is when he’s with him, partly because Bokuto simply reminds him of a pillow, with his soft skin, and warmth radiating from him.

Even though he is only centimeters in height away from Bokuto’s, he still knows of and feels the difference in their size. Akaashi wasn’t necessarily skinny, but his physique was quite feminine, and he loved how Bokuto’s arms could fit around him easily. He used to feel embarrassed of how delicate his facial features were and how his limbs always seemed too thin, how the shape of his bones were too soft and curved for a boy, but after his second year in high school, he suddenly felt at ease and almost basked in confidence when he realized how many people stopped and stared at his gentle body language.

If there were one thing he was entirely certain in, it was his body.

He loved crossing his legs, he loved pointing his toes, he loved tucking in his shoulders. He loved how he took strides instead of steps, how his arms glided through air instead of waved. He loved the angle of his eyes, the slope of his nose, the puffiness of his lips. He felt almost bad for being as confident as he was, knowing how much Bokuto loved those things as well.  

Bokuto hummed, and brought his arm up to connect with the one wrapped around just below Akaashi’s shoulders. “I don’t think you’re lying, but there’s still something you want to say.”

“I helped Oikawa and Iwaizumi-san.” He mumbled softly, his eyes already shut. He felt his eyelashes against his cheeks, and added them to the list of things he loved about his body. “They had broken up.” He concentrated on how to move his lips rather than the words he was saying. “But I’m glad they’re together again. They deserve each other.”

“Really?” Bokuto’s voice was hushed, and Akaashi was almost going to smile at the obvious excitement in it. “Holy shit, Akaashi, that’s great!”

“Didn’t do too much.” He mumbled, “Just pushed Oikawa little.”

“There you go again.” There was a fondness in his voice.

“Hm?” his eyes were closed already, but the weight of his lids seemed to pull his consciousness with them as well.

“Remember? What I told you? You’re always doing that thing where you contradict a compliment.”

“Oh.” He says softly. “’m sorry…love you.” He lets out a small yawn, and he wonders why the fact that he covered his mouth in politeness required no effort, yet talking did.

Bokuto smiles, and he feels weak as he feels Akaashi’s breathing against his own body. “You really are younger than me, huh?” He only lets out a sound, but it sounds like a hum of question, and it does nothing but make him laugh quietly again. “Love you.” He hushes, and the slight brush of Akaashi’s fingers across his chest is enough for him to know he had heard him.

 

May 12th

He’s at Kuroo’s place again, and for once, went there without Kuroo repeatedly texting him to come over. Oikawa was on his stomach, happily laying on the couch. He took up all of it, even the very ends of his legs were hanging off. He was on his phone, an innocent smile on his face.

“Keiji!” he greeted excitedly, and gave him a sideways wave.

“Oikawa,” he smiled back, “How are things?” he stopped walking for a second, and Kuroo waited for him.

“I’m great! We’re great,” he grinned wider, and pulled his knees from under him to sit up. “We’re actually gonna go out today.”

Akaashi nodded. “I’m glad he explained everything to you.”

“Ah,” Oikawa tilted his head, “He hasn’t, yet. He’s going to explain right now, as a matter of fact.”

“Oh,” Akaashi blinked, “Well I’m sure it’s not too bad. It won’t be enough to cause any trouble between you two, I mean.” He reassured.

Oikawa smiled again and shrugged, “I’m not concerned about that anymore. Nothing’s strong enough to that, I learned.”

Akaashi began to speak again, but Kuroo tapped his shoulder, and with a tilt of his head told him to follow. “Don’t interrupt, Tetsu.” Oikawa scowled, “Unless you’d like me to tell Keiji of the most fascinating story of what happened when I came home the other day.”

“It’s not too fascinating,” Kuroo scoffed, “Akaashi’s walked in on us tons of times.”

Akaashi’s face shifts into an expression of disgust. “Half of which were at my own apartment.”

“They were during parties,” Kuroo rolls his eyes and waves it off, and continues on his way down the hall and into his room.

Akaashi raises an eyebrow at the retreating figure before turning back to Oikawa. He lifts a hand as a form of apology, “I’ll be seeing you, then.”

Oikawa nods, “Yeah – I’ll tell you everything some other time, okay?”

He smiles, “Looking forward to it.”

He follows Kuroo into his room, and pauses at the doorway to see his friend lying face down into his bed. He hasn’t been in the room in a while, but it’s as he remembered. Dark with thick bedsheets, blankets, and curtains, creating a shady atmosphere. The large pink bear on his bed completely dissolved any sort of judgement, however. The room was generally clean, except for his desk with stacks among stacks of binders, folders, and papers. He noted it now smelled like his new shampoo instead of the previous cologne he used to wear, which was always too strong in his opinion. He silently thanked Kenma.

Akaashi rolls his eyes at his unmoving friend, “What are you doing, Kuroo-san?”

“Don’t Kuroo- _san_ me,” his voice is muffled, and he pushes himself up with his hands second later, flopping onto his side ungracefully.

“Hm.” He purses his lips, slightly irritated. “I know you’re expecting it, so may I ask, what’s wrong? Why are you moping?”

Kuroo pouts, “I’m not moping. I’m sulking. They’re on two different levels of sadness, didn’t you know?” He raises an eyebrow, and fails to hide the signature grin of his.

“Sulking, moping. I don’t have time for specifics,” he says blatantly, and walks over to sit on the edge of the bed.

“Oikawa,” Kuroo begins, sighing, “Forgave him so easily. I’m just concerned, is all. He seems happy as hell, which is great of course, but,” he stops abruptly, and shakes his head. “I punched Iwaizumi twice and shoved him out of here three times, because the dumbass was crying too hard to do anything himself. Two days later they’re planning cute dates? It just seemed too sudden.”

Akaashi studies his face, and is slightly relieved when he sees he has on an expression of genuine confusion rather than resentment. It meant he wasn’t upset with Iwaizumi directly, just baffled at the relationship.

Akaashi thinks for a moment before attempting to explain, “They never really broke up. They said the words out loud, but I don’t think either of them ever thought it was actually over.” Kuroo blinks at him, and he continues, “I know you’re not purposely antagonizing Iwaizumi-san, but remember it was Oikawa, with your help, that pushed him away when he just wanted to fix things. We should be worrying for Iwaizumi as well, since Oikawa was the one who seemed to completely control the whole situation.”

Kuroo stares at the floor for a minute, thinking, before he nods slowly. “Alright,” he murmurs, “That’s a good explanation.” He huffs, “I’m still worried, though.”

Akaashi smiles softly, “It’s nice of you to feel so protective.”

Kuroo shrugs, “Tooru’s made of the weakest steel.”

Akaashi snickers, “Good thing he has you then, hm?”

“ _Of course,_ ” he grins.

Akaashi chuckles, and his eyes cast by an object placed in the corner of the room, and he snorts. Kuroo, confused, follows his eyes, and groans, “You sick shit.” He covers his eyes with his hands, “You knew we were getting each other the same thing, you little fucker, and you didn’t say shit!” he lightly shoves him, and Akaashi smiles a bit as he catches himself before his side hit the bed.

“I thought you two would appreciate a couple’s activity.” He weakly tries, smiling. He slightly turns his body to lay on the edge of the bed, half of his legs still over the edge.

“Oho, really now?” Kuroo rolls his eyes. “Maybe Kenma and I can duet on our pianos from our separate apartments, you’re right, Akaashi!”

“It seems quite cute to me.” He says, laying his laced fingers over his stomach. His eyes turn up towards the ceiling as Kuroo lets out a whine.

Kuroo snorts, “I mean, well…uh…” he blinks, then slowly grins, “It _is_ kind of cute, huh?”

“Adorable, honestly.” Akaashi reassures, “You could put little kitten ears on Kenma and make him play that one little song from that video you love.”

The bed shifts quick and deep, and Akaashi lifts his head in concern, but rolls his eyes when it’s just Kuroo pounding at the sheets with his fists. “Akaashi, stop, man.” He grins embarrassedly.

“You gonna jot it down, Kuroo-san?” Akaashi hums, “You know you’ll forget it.”

He snaps, “I already did. On my phone. Stop pestering me!”

“You’re very welcome.” Akaashi chimes, and Kuroo huffs, his neck and cheeks still red.

“Being gay is so stressful.”

“Everything is stressful.”

“Well yeah, but being gay is like stress times twelve.”

“Not really. It’s my favorite pastime.”

He lets out a laugh, the kind that grows gradually in volume, and Akaashi finds his shoulders shaking a bit as he smiles.

Kuroo sits back against the wall, and asks, “Hey. Your classes end in three weeks, huh?”

He groans, “Shut up, Kuroo-san.”

His friend quirks an eyebrow, “You only say the -san to make sure it’s not too offensive, huh?”

“…You’re a genius, Kuroo-san.”

Kuroo smacks his thigh with his bear. “Anyways,” he fluffs his hair as if it were fixed earlier, “You dismissed my completely relevant question, so.”

“Yes, they end in three weeks.” He mutters.

“Yikes,” Kuroo snips, “Walk me through your extra-complicated plan, and I’ll give you some advice so you’ll be able to simplify it.”

Akaashi turns his head towards his right shoulder to look at him, and raises an eyebrow, “I don’t have a plan. What do you mean?”

Kuroo’s eyes widen, then narrow, then he purses his lips, “Don’t believe you. Just spill it already, to uncle Kuroo.”

“Gross,” he mutters, but Kuroo hisses, not missing it. Akaashi continues, “I don’t have a plan - we sort of talked about it. He found out about all of it, but he didn’t continue talking about it like it was a problem. He just seemed more concerned on when he found out than what he found out.”

Kuroo hums to himself, a dull sound erupting from the wall as Kuroo lightly lays his head back. “Let’s see…Bokuto…being chill…about you…moving.” He snaps his fingers quickly, suddenly. “That’s great, then! That means he supports you!”

“I don’t think so.” Akaashi says warily. “I think he just doesn’t want to talk about it.”

Kuroo looks bored, like he wasn’t considering Akaashi’s suggestion whatsoever. “I’m sure you’ve learned enough to know that Bo isn’t a dumbass or anything.”

“Of course.”

“Well,” Kuroo shrugs, “He isn’t an idiot, but he’s still pretty damn oblivious sometimes.”

“What,” he blinks, “do yo-“

“I mean that he’s probably thinking, ‘Look, Akaashi and I solved his problem about him moving! By clearing the air and not objecting it, that obviously shows that I’m supportive!’” Kuroo tries to grit his voice in the same tone as Bokuto’s, and Akaashi would’ve snorted if he wasn’t as concentrated on the words.

He continues, “’He’s sort of like, innocent until proven guilty. He just assumes that unless he directly opposes it, everything else must show that he’s supportive. Does that make sense?”

“I understand,” Akaashi frowns, and lets out a puff of air. “Maybe you’re right.”

He shrugs, “I mean I’m never wrong, so. Yeah. Probably.”

Akaashi winces, “Is he a masochist?”

Kuroo lets out a laugh of disbelief, “What the hell are you going on about now, Akaashi?”

He asks, “Why would you be supportive of your boyfriend leaving?”

Kuroo stares at him, stares at him for so long his shoulders begin slumping as his eyes narrow. “Akaashi, you’re even dumber than Bo.”

Akaashi isn’t offended by this, simply because he dismisses it as one of Kuroo’s babbles.

“You’re so naïve, Kaashi. It’s wild.”

“Naïve?” this turns his head.

“Oh, yeah, definitely.” Kuroo nods. “You have no idea how the great world works.” He gives a smug smirk, the kind Akaashi usually receives when Kuroo’s about to lecture him.

“I know.” He nods affirmatively, in order to keep his friend from going on.     

Kuroo does, in fact, shut his mouth in confusion, and slowly tilts his head, wondering why he just agreed as if he understood. “ _Hey, hey._ Let me teach you something!” he frowns. “If you end the conversation there, I can’t say shit!”

“I know, Kuroo-san.” He closes his eyes, and receives another hit to his thigh.

Kuroo lets out a soft groan in despair, “Akaashi, please. I’m trying to help your pitiful soul, but we both know it’s useless if you don’t listen.” He doesn’t reply. Kuroo shrugs, “Whatever. I’m just going to talk, then. It dawned on me that you listen to me all the time, even if you don’t want to. I’m just that reliable of a friend, hm?”

“How do you know I won’t fall asleep?”

“Good one.” Kuroo chuckles, and Akaashi would roll his eyes if they weren’t already closed.

Kuroo takes an exaggerated breath, only to start off with, “So.”

“So.”

“Your personality is sort of hypocritical, don’t you think?”

“How so?” he asks off-handedly.

“Ah, well.” He pauses, “Never mind. Your personality isn’t what I meant, it’s your anxiety that makes you sort of hypocritical.”

He’d by lying if he said he wasn’t at least slightly uncomfortable at Kuroo’s topic, but he allowed himself to relax when he remembered who he was. _I can trust him_ , he thought, but was still slightly annoyed nonetheless.

“It worries me, Akaashi.” Kuroo tells him, “Everyone sees how your double standards on yourself takes a toll on you.” Akaashi doesn’t interrupt. Kuroo sighs, “You know you’re a nice guy, right? Even nicer than me.” He mumbles, “You spend hours and hours helping other people, yet you deny any sort of help yourself.”

“I’m listening to you right now, aren’t I?” he opens his eyes, and sits up.

“Well yeah,” Kuroo rolls his eyes, “But will you ever take my advice? Or will you just let it go in one ear and out the other?”

“I don’t do that.” He insists, and hopes his voice is as confident as he feels.

His friend narrows his eyes, “ _Really?_ Then, you took my advice last time we talked about this? You asked Kou if he was fine with it? You told yourself to trust that he’d wait for you? Of course you didn’t, Akaashi. We wouldn’t be having this conversation if you had stop being so stubborn weeks ago.”

He lets out an inaudible sigh and turns his head to look at the floor; he can feel that Kuroo still has something to say.

He instead gets up, and walks over to his desk, papers shuffling as he begins stacking them and sorting them. “You know that we all care about you, Keiji.” Kuroo hums, his back facing him, “I wouldn’t have much fun bugging you if I didn’t.”

He turns to him, a few paperback workbooks in his arms. He spits, “So get it through your head _!_ ”

Akaashi pales in realization seconds later, and scrambles up and out, sparing a quick glare at him as he dashes out the door. The spot he was once in has one of the workbooks on it, now, and he inwardly groans when he hears Kuroo follow him out, and he feels one of the books hit his left calf. He winces as it hits him with the corner, and hurriedly unlocks the front door and begins to go down the hall.

“I’m doing this because I love you!” Kuroo hisses from his door, pausing to look at his retreating figure before following after him.

“You disgust me, Tetsurou.” Akaashi spits as he jams the close button in the elevator. He curses in his head and suddenly remembers why they always lost to Nekoma as Kuroo pounces and dives as the elevators close, his arm separating the door just in time. “Oh my god.” He mutters, and begins apprehending the vision of his death.

Kuroo grins at him, his eyes narrowing, but he does nothing but place the remaining books at at his feet and dust off his sweats as the doors then close.

Akaashi murmurs, “Remember that time we played dodgeball once? At one of the training camps?”

“Oh, yeah.” He chuckles.

“Well, you’ve improved a bit.” Akaashi crosses his arms, “Which would be useful if we were in middle school.”

Kuroo snorts, “You never did learn to keep your mouth shut, eh?”

As they reach the bottom floor, Kuroo huffs and leans over, picking up the books before following Akaashi out. Akaashi raises an eyebrow at his friend, but he pays no attention to him as they step out into the parking lot.

“I’m going home, Kuroo-san.” Akaashi reminds him in a slow tone.

“Fun. I’m coming with, okay? Okay.” Kuroo says as his eyes rake around the area in front of them. “Oh!” Akaashi watches as he races off and blinks at his figure as he throws away the remaining workbooks in a trash.

“Why would you do that?” Akaashi asks.

He shrugs, “It’s last year’s nonsense.”

“You’re very considerate, Kuroo-san.”

“You know, somehow I find you calling me Tetsurou much nicer, even if you’re saying it in disgust.”

“All the more reason not to, Kuroo-san.”

He laughs - the loud, boisterous one that’s contagious. It’s similar to Bokuto’s, Akaashi thinks, but his sounds more devious than his boyfriend’s light hearted one. “You know, Akaash, I used to hate you.”

He blinks and thinks about it, “You’re the seventh person to have ever told me that.” He glances at one of the street signs and guesses they’ll arrive at his apartment in another ten minutes.

“Woah? For reals?” he frowns. “Well, your vibe is sort of shady, no offense or anything. But that’s just the first impression, because you seem so quiet and your eyes look really unemotional. But as time passes, it turns out you’re a little bitch that rolls his eyes and scoffs every two seconds, so. In my opinion you actually talk way too much. So I guess you’re pretty cool.” He shrugs.

“I still sort of hate you, Kuroo-san.” Is all he says, and his friend laughs again.

“You’re the first person to every say that to me, Akaashi, because I’m so kind, after all.”

“As always.” He smiles a bit, remembering the words like a script.

“Delightful!”

“Please stop.”

And Kuroo pinches his ear.

They arrive at his apartment, and Kuroo helps himself to some ice cream in Akaashi’s freezer.  He eats straight out of the carton, and Akaashi is about to protest, but realizes he wouldn’t eat it again anyways.

“Anyways,” Kuroo says, cross legged on the floor in front of the couch, “I’m not going to stop bothering you until you make up your mind.”

“Alright, then. I’ll stay here.” He counters quickly.

“Nope, nope, it’s not that easy.” He waves his spoon in the air as he shakes his head. “If it was you would have said it long ago, when we were still young and beautiful.”

He snorts, and replies, “It is that easy, though. I have no desire to, so I won’t.”

“Uh, huh. Sure. So, it may seem easy. But I can assure you there are two obstacles you’ll face.” He puts the carton down and holds up a finger. “Telling your dad you don’t want to go.”

Akaashi’s throat stiffens, and he looks away as he knows his friend is right. His father wasn’t a bad one, Akaashi was actually incredibly glad to have him. It was because of that, though, was why he felt like he could, and should, never disappoint him. It was a sort of vision he had that was completely made up in his head, because in reality, he knew his father would never get too upset over anything, but it didn’t stop him from worrying nonetheless.

Kuroo pauses as he sees Akaashi thinking, and speaks up again a second later. “We both know Bokuto will absolutely object. Almost one hundred percent chance. I explained this earlier.” He reminds, holding up another finger. His eyes slightly widen, and he whispers, “As a matter of fact…”

Akaashi cocks an eyebrow, and Kuroo holds up all ten of his fingers. “So, your dad and Bokuto were two people. But then again, there’s me, Tsukishima, Noya, Oikawa, Suga, Daichi, Kenma, and _you_ , that will also be incredibly upset, and will most likely force you to go, anyways.” He lifts his hands near his shoulders, his palms facing up, and shrugs. “How much more will you have me insult you until you give in?”

They both glance at the door, suddenly, as a knock erupts from the front door. “I got it,” Kuroo says, rocking back before getting up. He heads to the door, exaggeratedly sliding in his socks – the avocado ones that matched his favorite boxers – and swings open the door.

Akaashi hears his lazy, “Yay~” and blinks when Bokuto comes bouncing in first, followed by Kuroo, who is trying hard not to laugh. He feels like Kuroo should have thrown him into the trash along with last year’s nonsense.

“Hi, Akaashi!” Bokuto grins warmly at him, and hugs him briefly before plopping down on the floor in between the other two. “Sorry I came to visit out of the blue. But I sort of missed you, so here I am.”

Akaashi smiles, and strokes his hair back, “Don’t apologize. Come surprise me anyday.” Bokuto beams.

Kuroo glances at Akaashi, his eyes practically smirking, and begins, “Y’know, Bo, Akaashi-kun and I were talking about the most interesting topic!”

“It’s probably only interesting to us.” Akaashi intervenes quickly, his words sharp as he glares at him. “It’s actually a rather big bother. You probably wouldn’t like to talk about it.”

Bokuto raises an eyebrow, “Well I can’t really say anything unless I know what it is.”

“Exactly,” Kuroo nods deeply. “We were talking about Akaashi’s transfer to Tokyo.”

“Oh.” Bokuto turns to look at him, and Akaashi almost considers not meeting his large, expectant eyes. However, he finds himself unable to do so, especially when Bokuto asks, “When is that, anyways? In a few weeks? If you need help boxing things up, I could help!”

Akaashi stares at him in disbelief, and Kuroo cackles yet again. Akaashi remembers why he still sort of hates him.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hmu @lunakaashi on tumblr


	12. may 12th - september 19th

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oh lord this was so wild to write. There's going to be so so much skipping around from now on. I didn't even know the skip was going to happen until I decided may 12th was over so I was just sort of....'why not?' and then out of nowhere came september 11th?? unbelievable.
> 
> haha hope you all enjoy it! (as well as suffer from chest pains with me)

May 12th

“Ah, do you think I should move in here when you leave?” Bokuto grins, and laughs at his own joke. “I’ll keep that part of the floor you like to sit on warm for you.”

“I-“ his teeth clench, but it’s invisible from the outside. “No. No, you can’t, because I’ve already discussed and established,” he spits at Kuroo, “that I’m alright with staying here.”

Bokuto blinks and then laughs nervously, “Are you…are you serious, Akaash?”

“Of course.” He says easily, calming down. His peace is threatened as he sees Kuroo roll his eyes.

Bokuto places a hand on Akaashi’s thigh, and Akaashi’s breath hitches when he looks down to meet the golden ones, giving him the same, piercing look they have once before. “You’re lying. Badly, too.” His words aren’t a suggestion, Akaashi dreads, he’s concluded it.

“Bokuto-“

“Akaashi,” he cuts off, his eyes glowering even though he’s looking up at Akaashi. “You wouldn’t hesitate if I weren’t here. You shouldn’t hesitate because I am. What’s wrong?”

“Nothing is wrong.” He insists softly, trying to calm him down, but it does nothing but fuel his fire.

“Again,” his voice isn’t raised, but it’s sharp. He begins to stand up, and Akaashi, panicking, stands up and follows his action. “You’re lying _again._ ”

“I don’t-“ his voice still sounds collected, but the tips of his fingers feel numb. Usually, Bokuto displayed patience. Last time he certainly did, and he thought that that experience was much more tense than this one. “I don’t have anything to say, Bokuto. What do you want to hear?” They walk across the room, past Kuroo, until they’re almost at his front door.

Bokuto’s head whips towards him and says simply, his voice toning down, “Anything. Anything but nothing.”

“Alright, then.” He breathes. “It’s simple. I’ll miss you. I’ll miss Kuroo. I’ll miss Tsukishima-san, and Oikawa-san, and Noya-san. I’ll feel out of place there, I’ll be terrified, and I won’t be able to visit any of you to help me.”

Bokuto fully turns to face him, and his cheeks slightly puff up as he pouts, the edges of lips barely turning up. He sighs, loud and dramatic, and complains, “Akaashi, you’re an idiot.”

“That’s what I said.” Kuroo calls, and Akaashi attempts to ignore him.

Bokuto leans forward, and Akaashi somewhat flinches at his hand, but relaxes when his feels the familiar pinching on the tip of his ear. Bokuto seems bothered by the fact he flinched at all, but says nothing about it. He retracts his hand and furrows his eyebrows, “Don’t you think anyone would feel like that? It’s rare to not miss someone, isn’t it? How come you’re dumb enough to believe that’s a reason to stay?”

“Because other people – they just,” Akaashi’s frown deepens, and he shakes his head. “It’s different. Other people simply feel nervous. Most people would feel nervous. But I won’t feel nervous, and I’m afraid that I won’t feel anything at all.”

Bokuto rubs both his eyes, and Akaashi watches him a bit embarrassedly. _I’m overthinking this,_ he tells himself, _I always am_. So he begins to reassure, “It’s alright. You don’t have to worry about my sake.” He voice is as fluid as ever.

Bokuto’s hands lower and he blinks, “What?”

He repeats, “I’m-“

“Akaashi, listen.” Bokuto interrupts, “I’m always going to worry about you, whether you like it or not. Acting like you’re okay isn’t going to make me stop wondering if you ate breakfast this morning, or if you managed to sleep a little. If you want to stop making things hard for me, stop making things hard for yourself.”

“It’s not that easy.”

“And that’s why I’m here.”

He doesn’t know what happened after that, or what he was thinking of exactly, but his cheek is against the shirt he gave Bokuto, and he thinks about how it now smells like him. “Thank you.” Are the words that come out muffled against his shoulder, and Bokuto’s arms squeeze at his hips in reply.

Akaashi pulls away only slightly, just enough to place a kiss at the base of his jaw, and Bokuto squeezes an eye shut in response and smiles fondly. “You know I love ya’.”

“You’d announce to the world that I love you.” Akaashi smiles a bit.

“Well, duh. Who wouldn’t?” Bokuto beams.

Akaashi tenses as he feels an additional hand on his shoulder, and turns slightly to see Kuroo. He tells him, “I’ll be going, now, seeing as everything is getting better. Thanks for the ice cream.” He slightly bows, and there’s a sly grin on his face, but Akaashi knows that it’s just a typical smile of his.

Bokuto lets out a sound similar to a hoot, much to Akaashi’s surprise, and briefly breaks the hug to bump fists with Kuroo, “See ya, bro.”

“Bro, we need to do something soon.” Kuroo tells him as he walks to the door slowly.

“The fake tattoo prank, I’m telling you! I know a girl who gives really realistic ones - on Oikawa.” He laughs.

“Ah,” Kuroo tilts his head unenthusiastically, “Not him, this time. What about Daichi?”

“Azumane!” Bokuto pipes up, and Kuroo grins at the name.

“Bro, you’re _evil_.”

“Nishinoya will figure it out eventually.” Bokuto reasons, and Kuroo shrugs.

“Alright, alright, see ya’.” Kuroo gives a final wave to both of them as he opens the door, and heads out.

Bokuto turns back to Akaashi as the door shuts, and gives a lopsided grin, “Hey, Akaashi. Do you want to hear about the prank?”

Akaashi replies, “Not particularly. I’m not fond of pranks.”

“Well it’s pretty intricate,” Bokuto ignores him, “We’re going to have to have a party to make it believable and get everyone wasted. Then, once they’re all knocked out, I can get this girl I know to give realistic – looking temporary tattoos to whoever, and when they wake up-“

“Please, Bokuto-san, don’t invite me to this party.”

“One of my original ideas was to give Daichi one that said, ‘SugaMoma’s Daddy’ in one of those dramatic ribbons across his collarbones or something-“

“Bokuto-san, I’m leaving.” Akaashi turns and walks into his kitchen, and Bokuto follows, giggling.

Bokuto lifts himself to sit on the counter, and Akaashi unashamedly stares at his arms as he does so. “What’s with the -san, now, Akaash?” Bokuto’s voice is teasing, but he can tell that he’s attempting to hide his concern.

“Sorry,” Akaashi squeezes his shoulder as he passes by. “It wasn’t on purpose. It’s just a habit, to always add honorifics.”

“Oh.” Bokuto nods enthusiastically, satisfied with the answer. “Okay, then.” He clears his throat seconds later, practically demanding Akaashi’s attention again with how exaggerated it was.

He cocks an eyebrow and Bokuto questions, his voice somewhat lowering, “So, you’re going then…right?”

Akaashi admits, “I don’t want to answer that out loud.” And Bokuto gives him a small, understanding smile, with a despair behind it only he would be able to spot. He sits on the floor in front of his couch and murmurs, “I suppose you’ll have to keep my home warm for me.”

His words hang in the air as realization dawns on them. Bokuto lets out a worried laugh, “Uh…when…do you get your admission results?”

“My father has them.” He replies blandly, his voice soft. “He told me to tell him whether I want to go or not, before he gives me the results.”

Bokuto tries to joke, despite the noticeable slump of his shoulders, “And if you didn’t get in, you’d have to stay here with me, huh?”

“I’d have to?” Akaashi gives a weak smile, “I’d get to.”

Bokuto smiles at him from where he’s sitting, but he sees it wane, minute after minute, until it’s almost gone. His large eyes were previously locked on him, but he notices the way they seem to lose their focus as he stares at the floor, and he can only imagine what he was thinking.

Bokuto was a lot like him, in some ways, Akaashi thinks. He supposes they’re both oblivious fools, offering help and giving to others without realizing until the end what they’ve lost.

_But I haven’t lost him_. And the fact he’s able to remind himself that is enough for him to find the energy to move his legs, foot by foot until he’s in front of him.

His cheeks are rosy, and Akaashi thinks it’s beautiful on his face despite the wetness in his eyes. He seems like he’s holding his breath, almost like a child would when they didn’t get their way. There’s a soft, but still audible intake of air when Bokuto looks at him, and he looks down embarrassedly, and tries to explain himself.

“I’m happy for you, Akaash, I swear-“ he begins to stutter, “B-but I just…It didn’t h-hit me that you’d just be _gone_. I mean-“

“We’ll be alright.” He says quietly, pushing the strands of hair on Bokuto’s forehead back.

Bokuto’s fingers are gripping the edge of the counter, and looks down enough to miss Akaashi’s eyes. “I know we will, Akaashi, _I know_ , but it’s still going to-“ his voice tapers off and Akaashi knows Bokuto’s finally hit the bottom of all of his lows, knows that he feels hopeless. He’s all too familiar with the feeling.

He’s familiar with the way voices crack, and how hard he struggles to vocalize his words properly to maintain steadiness. He’s experienced the snap in his façade behind his emotionless expression. He can recall each and every time he’s stuttered when speaking to his mother, or how the nerves in his arms numb as he walks past people who disapprove of him, for god knows why, but he’s convinced himself enough to know that it must be a good reason.

 His voice has cracked and chipped and broken many times before, but he’s glad that if it were to be steady at least once, it was for Bokuto.

He wraps his hand around the back of his neck and pulls him towards himself, burying his face into his neck as Bokuto does the same. Bokuto doesn’t cry, and Akaashi didn’t expect him to, but he feels the tension in his back, and the breath of small whimpers against his skin.

He repeats to him, steadily, despite the throb in his chest, “We’ll be alright, Koutarou.”

A hiccup echoes through the room, and both of them know it’s a lie.

 

 

September 11th (2 months, 26 days since he’s left)

Kuroo is calling him.

He huffs, and rubs his eyes with his right hand, his left hand reaching for his phone. His apartment – much smaller than the one he had back home, was still comfortable, and in some ways better. It held the heat in better, and he had a nice view of the somewhat slower side of Tokyo, which he appreciated. The room was dark, but if he strained his eyes hard enough he could make out general objects around the room.

“Hello?” he murmurs, his words groggy enough that they’re only able to be deciphered based on the tone of his voice. His half open eyes glance at his bedside clock, and the green numbers blare out the time _4:17am_ at him.

“Akaashi, my man,” his words are slurred, and Akaashi groans, and actually has to calm himself down, but fails to because all that’s circulating in his mind is, _I should be asleep, I should be asleep, not babysitting this fool from across the country._

“Kuroo-san.” He finally sighs, “Where is Kenma-san?”

“Ke-n…” he pauses, “Oh! _Oho_ , Kenma? He’s like, downstairs…y’know…recently…I’ve been thinking that I’m in love with him…Honestly… I’m pretty gay.” Akaashi snorts. “This isn’t funny, Keiji…I,” he hiccups, “…what if Kenma isn’t gay? What if I die a lonely little homo…”

All he manages to muster out of it is, “Kuroo, you don’t have a downstairs.”

“I don’t…have a…?” there’s a silence on his part, but Akaashi can still make out familiar voices screaming in the background. It’s enough to make him smile, even a little, at the godforsaken hour. “Oh, no, by downstairs, I meant I’m sitting on him.”

Akaashi closes his eyes and listens, and wonders what he’s doing with his life as he hears Kenma’s faint threats, “Tetsurou, _get off of me_.”

“Kuroo, stand up.” He tells him.

“W-why?” he asks lazily.

“I need you to answer the door. I’m outside.” He tells him, and rolls his eyes at how enthusiastic he suddenly is. He supposes it’s rather sweet, though.

“Oh my go-oo-d,” he breathes, “No, man, no. I’ve missed you!” there’s loud thumping, and Akaashi figures he’s making his way outside.

Seconds later, he whines, “I don’t see you!”

He raises an eyebrow at Daichi’s voice in the background asking, _“Uh, could I ask what are you screaming at, Kuroo?”_

“Akaashi’s outside, man! But I can’t find him!” Kuroo snaps.

_“That’s the fridge.”_

“You trying to fucking tell me I don’t know where my front door is? Well, _Sawamura-kun_ I’ll let you know-“ his voice is heavy and annoyed, and Akaashi considers hanging up as his voice grows distant.

He hears a sigh, and recognizes it as Kenma. “Akaashi-san?” he asks hesitantly.

“Ah, there you are.” He sighs in relief. “Is everything alright over there?”

“It’s…okay…” he replies, “The party isn’t too wild, or anything, it’s basically just Kuroo and Tanaka-san that are really…uh…”

“Yeah,” Akaashi gives a soft chuckle.

“I’m sorry about him, by the way.”

“No need to apologize. It’s expected of him.” He rolls over to his side and closes his eyes. Just the sensation of it is enough to give him the will to continue talking for at least another minute.

He considers asking Kenma about what’s on his mind, but decides against it. He’s well aware there’s a high chance that he’s at the party as well, but he isn’t sure that talking to him while he’s any bit intoxicated is too appealing, even if he is his boyfriend.

“Well,” Akaashi blinks slowly, “I’m going to go. It’s quite early, isn’t it?”

“Isn’t early enough,” Kenma huffs. “But…I understand. I’ll see you soon, I take it?”

“Of course.” He says, and a genuine smile grows on his lips before he hangs up, and drops his arm limp, not caring about the strike of his phone sliding off the bed and hitting the floor.

 

September 18th (3 months, 3 days since he’s left)

“Does he know you’re coming back, then?”

Akaashi briefly glances at his bed, with his recent friend laying down on it, upside down. He answers, “No – I asked them to keep quiet about it. He’ll definitely be happy, though. Things like a new Febreeze scent is enough to make him smile.” A chuckle escapes his lips at the thought.

Konoha hums, tugging on the strings of his hoodie, “And previously one of the top five aces? What an interesting personality he has there.”

“He’s very eccentric, in a loveable sort of way. He reminds me of a plush toy.” Akaashi affirms, zipping up his bag.

“With some beef!” Konoha sings, and Akaashi is sure the tips of his ears are red.

Konoha grins, and asks moments later, “What time are you leaving tomorrow?” he rolls onto his stomach before shifting to sit up.

“My flight is at 7, so I’ll be out of here by 5:30.” He purses his lips at the thought, and manages to shake the previous embarrassment away.

“Early,” Konoha taunts. “It’s a shame it had to be this weekend – Terushima invited is to a party, remember?”

Akaashi somewhat grimaces, “Terushima-san is very generous…but he’s very…” he shakes his head, deciding to not finish the sentence, and Konoha laughs.

“I get ya’. I can still go with Lev and Yaku or something, so I guess it’s all good.”

“You’re acting like I’d stay here if you were to ask me.”

“What? You wouldn’t? A favor from your dear friend?” he teases Akaashi.

“I’ve known you for not even three months, Konoha-san.”

“Ah, yeah.” He shrugs, “I think we’ve bonded quite nicely!” Akaashi simply rolls his eyes, and Konoha speaks up again, seconds later, “So, then. You call this boyfriend of yours by his last name? No, forget that question. Are _you_ going to take his last name? Or is he going to take yours? _Oh,_ ” he grins again, taking in Akaashi’s flushed expression. “ _I see_. You want his, then?”

“Please shut up, or I’ll have to kick you out of here and delete your number.” His voice is dry, contrasting with the politeness in his tone.

He chuckles again, and gives a lopsided grin, “But then who will you have to update you on the classes you’ll miss?”

“That’s right, our classes.” Akaashi murmurs blandly. “The ones that you have straight B’s in, Jack of all Trades-san.”

“Alright, I’m sick of that shit, where the _hell_ did all of you get that from?”

“…Destiny?”

“Oh my _god,_ ” Konoha slaps his forhead, but shakes off the annoyance a minute later. He huffs, “You’ll be back for _my_ birthday, right?”

“Yes, yes of course.” Akaashi nods, taking a seat on the floor. “The 28th?”

“The _30 th_, I can’t believe you forgot.” He frowns.

Akaashi raises an eyebrow, “Then when’s mine?”

Konoha winces, “Uh…February?”

“Yes, you’re right, my birthday is all twenty-eight days of February.”

He groans, “Fine, fine, whatever. You lose one, you win one.”

“And it’s December 5th.”

“I knew that!” he snaps quickly.

“Uh-huh. Sure.” He says warily to humor him.

Konoha grins somewhat sheepishly, and tells him, “I guess I should go then, huh? It’s almost nine, you probably have to retire early tonight.”

Akaashi thinks to himself about how it won’t matter if Konoha is or isn’t around, he won’t sleep anyways. But he bites his tongue after deciding the explanation is unnecessary and nods, “I guess you’re right.”

With a last smile, and a pat to Akaashi’s head, Konoha leaves his room, calling back, “Remember to lock your front door!”

Akaashi replies back, “I will, thank you.”

And Akaashi feels somewhat nervous as he hears the door shut.

 

September 19th (3 months, 4 days since he’s left)

He hasn’t seen Bokuto in months.

He texts him almost every day, some conversations going on for hours. He calls him over Skype occasionally, but he stopped suggesting it once he realizes that it only makes Bokuto upset to see him, but not be with him.

The first week, he remembers, was the most bearable. He was somewhat used to going that long without seeing him, although the adjustment of moving in general was still enough to throw him off. The time afterwards, however, left him in distress.

Education wise, Kuroo was right about everything. The school was beyond his expectations – it was interesting and challenging to him, but not to the point where it made him uninspired. His classes were enjoyable and pleasant, but most of the time the thought of them was still enough to make him groan. Attending them were never as bad as he expected, but he would be lying if he were to say he was completely happy.

His morale was low – it was dangerously wavering on the edge of disappearing altogether. He was ecstatic to see his father again, of course, but it wasn’t like it was every day, anyways. He couldn’t find a proper reason to wake up in the morning anymore. He couldn’t think the usual, _Oikawa will scold me if I ditch_ , or _Kuroo won’t allow me to come over today if he found out._ Even though he was aware Kuroo skipped every so often himself, his friend was overwhelmingly concerned with Akaashi’s own education.

After class he couldn’t walk down the street to Kuroo’s apartment to visit him or Oikawa. He couldn’t hear Tsukishima’s snarky comments or hear Noya’s laughs or feel Bokuto’s hands in his own.

When he walked outside his apartment, he was no longer on the fourth floor, but the first. He couldn’t walk two streets down, and one block north to the grocery store; he’d have to call a cab instead. He’d started to forget some of the names of the kids he used to train at the gym, and even forgot the name of the floristry across the street. The air wasn’t as clean, and nights were noisy. His apartment was carpeted now, and he didn’t have a couch anymore, just single armchairs.

His friends now were kind, although they rivaled in immaturity with the others, but he found himself satisfied with their similar interests. He believed the two groups would get along easily – he could see Yaku and Kenma, especially – but when he was with them, he still felt limited. There were things he felt embarrassed talking about with them, and there were topics that would hold too much backstory to bring up. He couldn’t recall memories that happened years ago with them, or laugh about a joke someone made last time they did something.

None of them would chime about how they learned a new song for him to hear on piano, or tell him they saw a shop that reminded them of him, or tell him that it was alright to do the things he found himself avoiding.

Sometimes even the most distant of things would make him feel a little less full in his thoughts, a little emptier. Everything and anything floral smelled like Oikawa’s lotion, and any stray cat reminded him of his two friends’ physiques.

He still had Bokuto’s shirt, that had been folded and kept in a drawer by itself, but he was wearing it now, for the first time in months, at the airport. It didn’t smell like him anymore.

He was glad he could still remember how his voice sounded.

Kuroo was going to pick him up at the airport that was almost an hour from their home – from _Kuroo’s_ home, he corrected.

He didn’t keep in contact with Kuroo as much – often once or twice every few days, and he missed it the most. Although Bokuto was everything to him, was his best friend, he always found himself going to Kuroo before him.

Even though he’s technically known Oikawa and Iwaizumi longer, he considers himself closest to Kuroo – he was his friend before everything, and he was still his friend afterwards. He cared for him before he himself was aware of it, and knew if he was gone for more than just three months, if he was gone for years and even more, he’d still remember the slight gap in between two of his teeth, or the scar on his left ankle, and even the little chant he’d have his team repeat years ago when they were in high school.

Before he knew it, the plane was landing. There weren’t many people traveling to the small prefecture on a Thursday morning, so thankfully, Akaashi walked through the halls with a minimum amount of uncomfortable contact.

He spotted Kuroo almost instantly, his form lazily lounging in a chair with his dark blue hoodie on. Akaashi was about halfway to him when his eyes snapped up, and he couldn’t help but laugh a little at the grin that formed immediately.

“How’ve you been, loser?” he teases. Akaashi opens his mouth to reply, but begins to laugh again at the tight hug he receives promptly after.

“I’ve been alright,” he replies, voice slightly strained at how tight his arms are. “Kuroo-“

“Woops,” he lets go instantly, his hands still up. “You know what?” he tilts his head, “You look better. Like, I’m not sure why, but it’s nice. Happier, sort of? Like your face is just-“ he waves his hands around, “Brighter?”

Akaashi shrugs, “I slept a good amount last night. Better than what I assumed.”

“Oh,” Kuroo smiles a bit and turns his head, “That’s good, then.”

Although he feels something is off about him, he doesn’t say anything about it. “Would you like to head back, then?”

“Yeah, let’s go.” He nods, “You need me to take your bag for you?”

“It’s alright, it’s not that much.”                                        

The first few minutes of the ride is silent, and the fact that it isn’t comfortable worries him. Months ago, they could sit in silence for hours and feel content. Had this much time actually taken a toll on them?

“Is everything alright?” Akaashi speaks up as Kuroo begins to tap his fingers on the steering wheel, almost nervously.

“What?” he glances briefly, like he didn’t hear him correctly, “Uh, yeah, I’m good.”

“Really?” Akaashi raises an eyebrow.

“Well, as much as I usually am.” He jokes.

Akaashi continues to stare at him, “Uh-huh.”

“Ah,” Kuroo slightly winces, “I may or may not sound like a jackass, but it’s just that,” he huffs, and speaks quickly, “I just sort of kind of wish that I never told you to leave and that you continued to attend that subpar college with less interesting people because we miss you a lot and when I say we, I mean me.”

Akaashi is somewhat hesitant, but then laughs a little bit, his ears turning pink. “You’re really something, Tetsurou.”

Kuroo somewhat pouts, his voice muttering, “You know I don’t like the mushy stuff.”

“Your personality is mushy.” Akaashi rolls his eyes. “You just believe it isn’t mushy because you always insist on adding ‘bro’ or ‘dude’ to the end of them.”

“That’s right, that’s what I forgot!”

He snorts, but continues moments later, smiling fondly, “It’s alright, I still care about all of you the most.”

And his friend beams, and rubs the back of his neck, “Aw, are you serious?”

Akaashi blinks and turns to stare at him fully, “Of course, why wouldn’t I? Months can’t just erase years.”

“W-well _yeah_ , I know that.” He mutters, then sighs, “But you just seemed so happy, coming off the plane and all. Like I said, you just look more energetic.” He glances at him, “You don’t have bags under your eyes anymore.”

“I wouldn’t say that.” Akaashi frowns. “There’s still a sort of shadow underneath them.”

“Well not having _anything_ is a little abnormal.” Kuroo tempers, “But they’re not obvious anymore. Like you’ve had close to a full eight hours of sleep often.”

Akaashi insists, “That doesn’t have to do with my moving. Did you consider that I looked happy because I was coming to see you?”

Kuroo furrows his eyebrows, confused, before his eyes widen, “Bro!”

Akaashi smiles a bit.

“I’m going to – oh my god, I’m going to pull over to hug you, because I’m so glad you’re back and I love you very, very much. _Dude_.” He emphasizes, and begins to switch lanes.

He lightly glares at Kuroo as the car begins to veer to the side, until it halts to a stop. Kuroo gives him a shit eating grin as he turns to him, holding his arms out.

“You’re _really_ something, Kuroo-san.” He rolls his eyes, but accepts it nonetheless. He attempts to stifle a chuckle when Kuroo lightly pats his back continuously.

Kuroo pulls back and grins, “I’m just really excited, Akaashi. It’s been lonely in the apartment nowadays.”

Akaashi tilts his head as Kuroo moves the shift stick and begins to pull back onto the road. “Oikawa moved out?”

“Hm? Oh, no. He’s not going to, at least not soon. He’s just been out a lot, because he’s the social butterfly and all.”

“Really now.” Akaashi frowns, somewhat surprised, “I would’ve thought that he’d move in with Iwaizumi by now.”

“But-“ Kuroo cuts himself off and softly gasps, “That’s right, that’s right! You don’t know!”

“Oh no.” he mutters, “What happened?”

“Nothing too bad. Well, nothing that directly affects them anymore, at least.” He reassures Akaashi, “I mean, it’s disappointing. It’s completely terrible on Iwaizumi’s part. I don’t know how he handles it. It’s rough.”

Akaashi nods, and Kuroo continues, sighing, “Iwaizumi’s parents are homophobic.”

The words make Akaashi’s throat go dry. Although it’s somewhat selfish to be thinking about himself at the moment, a chill runs up his spine nonetheless. The thought of even imagining if his own parents were also so made his nerves tingle and his skin pale. “Um,” he nods a bit, “Continue.”

“Yeah, well, that’s why he didn’t want Oikawa to move in. You’ve met his parents, haven’t you?”

“Yes, once.” He nods, remembering the brief meeting after one of their tournaments in high school. “They were very…stern.”

“That’s being generous.” Kuroo scoffs, “They’re assholes. Once, I met them at one of his games. Your school won that match, yet I still overheard them go on and on about how he could’ve done better. I distinctly remember them telling him that if he wasn’t going to do better he might as well drop out of the club. He was the goddamn _ace_ at one of the top schools in the prefecture. How much better could he get?”

Akaashi winces, “I remembering him telling me that before, actually.” He lightly sighs, “They’re very pitiful people, hm?”

“Disgusting.” Kuroo spits. “Anyways; before, Iwaizumi paid for his own apartment, with his cousin and all. But his parents moved ridiculously close to where he attends classes, so they offered to buy him and regularly pay for a better place near them. The only catch is,” Kuroo rolls his eyes, “They have keys to his apartment, and they stop by regularly, apparently. Sounds like a nightmare, but his place is really convenient and top notch as hell.” Akaashi nods in agreement. “I don’t know if I’d be able to handle them, though.”

Akaashi looks as Kuroo’s face changes into one of anger. He shakes his head, “Iwaizumi’s too good for his parents. Oikawa, too. Iwaizumi’s been telling them ever since they graduated high school that he hasn’t been in contact with Oikawa.”

Akaashi furrows his eyebrows, “Why? Haven’t they been friends since they were kids? Couldn’t they just pull off that lie, instead?”

“Yeah.” Kuroo grunts. “But despite that, despite all that time they’ve probably spent together, despite how well Oikawa probably knows them, despite the fact that Oikawa practically grew up with them like a second son with how close those two are, they still managed to say, Iwaizumi quotes, ‘I’m glad you’ve cut him out of your life. We don’t need a faggot like him all over you, Hajime.’ They absolutely loathe Oikawa. There was a lot of things Iwaizumi told me about that he didn’t have to heart to tell Oikawa; he spared him the details. Like, he told him the gist of it, but he told me the exact insults of everything they’ve ever called him; I wouldn’t be able to tell him, either. Oikawa is just,” Kuroo sighs, “he doesn’t deserve any of the shit he’s had to face.”

“Well,” Akaashi gives a bitter smile, “I suppose that’s why he such a strong person then, hm?” Akaashi’s vision begins to blur in seconds. He swiftly wipes his eyes with the backs of his hands. Thankfully, the tears don’t continue like he expected them to. “They’re _soulmates_.” He breathes, thinking all of it over.

“They don’t believe in all of that.” Kuroo sighs. “His parents aren’t soulmates. They don’t know about the two’s matching marks and all.”

“Oh.” Akaashi’s eyes turn to his lap. “How did Oikawa take it? When did Iwaizumi tell him?”

“Well,” Kuroo begins, “He told Oikawa a long while ago, while you were still here, apparently. But Oikawa didn’t want to talk about it until about two months ago, I’d say.”

“Are they alright?” Akaashi murmurs.

“Well, yeah. They’re going as strong as ever. It’s not too different for them, I think, since Iwaizumi’s always known how his parents have felt. It’s just the fact that he had to tell Oikawa to his face that was sort of hard. But I think they’re a little better now, after it all.” He takes a breath, like his explanation helped him calm down himself. 

He nods in reply. “Do you think we could go to your place, first, then? So I could see Oikawa?”

Kuroo replies after a moment, nodding, “…Yeah. Yeah, let’s do it.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm on tumblr @lunakaashi !! <33


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